


my heart is bigger (than the distance in between us)

by arktemisia, whythebananas



Category: Women's Soccer RPF
Genre: Alternate Universe, F/F
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-06
Updated: 2017-02-17
Packaged: 2018-08-19 22:45:56
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 36,119
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8227322
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/arktemisia/pseuds/arktemisia, https://archiveofourown.org/users/whythebananas/pseuds/whythebananas
Summary: So, Tobin fills her heart with the world and brings it all back to Alex.Or: the one where Tobin gets paid to be reckless, Alex has the chance to be a Disney princess (or so she claims), and it takes them 13 years to finally get it right.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [red_thread](https://archiveofourown.org/users/red_thread/gifts).

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As this story takes place over a rather long span of time, Tobin and Alex's ages have been included next to each date. Let us know if this is distracting/unnecessary, and we'll remove it.
> 
> /// is used to indicate a switch in POV.
> 
> A huge thank you to [red_thread](http://archiveofourown.org/users/red_thread) and [captainatx](http://archiveofourown.org/users/captainatx) for editing and looking over this while it was in progress.
> 
> Hope you enjoy~

_Yeah, that’s what I always_  
_Loved the most about you_  
_You’re so strong_ _  
Come and knock me down_

 

* * *

 

_September 3rd, 2017 (Tobin: 29, Alex: 28)_

Alex walks through the dark wooden French doors of the venue, ducking away from the ceiling vents as cool air blows down. A banner hangs overhead, _Happy 20th Birthday Aquila!_ painted in block white letters, and she cranes her neck to read the name of her old TV show in its familiar loopy font. Sounds bounce around the high ceiling of the ballroom: the absent chitchat of the occupants, the resounding bass line of a 90s pop song, the clink of glasses, and the scrape of chairs against the floor, all combining into a cacophonous static in her ears. Turning, Alex wrinkles her nose at the mixture of many varied perfumes and colognes floating about.

It’s one of those events that you have to be a little drunk for, she decides. Before she has a chance to grab a glass though, she’s spotted.

Sydney rushes to her, one arm slung heavy and excited around Alex’s neck, and Megan is similarly determined to make Alex forget about personal space, lips on her cheek and hands firm against her midriff. Not too far away comes a boom of laughter and strong arms secure themselves around all three women, lifting them slightly off the floor as they squeal.

“Abby!”

Alex’s smile splits wider as her feet touch solid ground again. More and more of her old cast mates spill in, chattering away like not a day has passed.

 

///

 

Tobin arrives about half an hour late—by her standards, which means she’s really an hour late—when the photographers hired for the occasion have already abandoned the entrance, and for the most part she enters unnoticed. In her leather jacket and skinny jeans, Tobin looks less like an attendee and more like an employee. Keeping her head down, she walks past the gossiping waiters and into the kitchen, stepping into the swirling steam and pleasant aromas.

Through the circular window on the door leading to the main area, Tobin spots a flash of brown hair and the breath is knocked out of her. Logically, she knows it could have been anyone, but the possibility that it was Alex…

Pivoting, Tobin heads back into the decadent lobby. In a twist of cruelty, she actually finds Alex there, sandwiched between Heather and an obviously tipsy Christie. Alex’s dress hugs her body, the black contrasting with her vivid red lipstick perfectly, and leaves several strips of skin exposed, just enough to taunt. She’s always been the epitome of beauty, but tonight, Tobin can’t bear to keep looking.

It’s been, what, a year, maybe two since their last conversation. There’s something different about Alex now, something that Tobin can’t quite put a finger on. Her hair is shorter or a little lighter in color. It hurts to think about any change, so Tobin doesn’t. In typical form, she retreats instead.

As Tobin ducks away, hand absently rubbing at the back of her head, she bumps straight into Lauren.

“Watch it, Tobs,” Lauren jokes, pushing at her shoulder.

“I try and try but you’re always in my way,” Tobin says, forcing an instant change in mood.

Tobin wraps Lauren in a tight hug, a small grin on her face.

“How’re Jrue and the kids?” Tobin asks once they’ve separated.

Lauren makes a face and waves it off dismissively. “What about you, still homeless and wandering the world?”

Tobin turns back for a glimpse of Alex and regrets it.

“Something like that.”

 

* * *

 

_July 23rd, 2004 (Tobin: 16, Alex: 15)_

Tobin usually spends her summers skateboarding with friends and hiking with her family, but this year her agent insists that she join the rest of her cast mates in San Diego for Comic-Con. Generously, Alex’s parents offer Tobin housing for the two-day event, so she runs out of excuses to dodge the publicity.

As the newest regulars, Alex and Kelley are paired together for the less important interviews, but Lauren, Amy, and Tobin are signed up for a special _New Kids_ Q &A panel. Tobin had expected more free time that weekend—to wander the convention grounds with a few cast mates, maybe hang out with some fans—having heard from Amy that she and Lauren had just been expected to show up for the cast signing session last year. And okay, she’s here to work, but _still_ —the nickname coined by Aaron, the show’s PR manager, technically doesn’t even apply to the trio anymore given the newer regulars last season, so she didn’t expect to have any _actual_ responsibilities.

She manages her time poorly and almost misses her introduction at the panel, and at some point gets caught mid-chew with half-eaten granola bar in hand when a fan question is directed at her. This is to their showrunner’s displeasure, and as punishment Pia makes her field the end of the day interviewers with Kelley and Alex while Lauren and Amy join the other cast members in meeting fans.

At the interview, Tobin sits with her knees falling open and crosses her ankles, doing her best to pay attention to the scruffy man asking them questions.

“So your show, _Aquila,_ is coming up on its seventh season now?”

“Eighth, I think,” Tobin says.

“Eighth,” Alex confirms.

“Really?” Kelley asks, leaning forward. “Because 2004 minus 1997 is seven.”

“No, you… you count 1997 as one,” Alex says.

“What?”

“Like you have to count 1997 as a year too.”

Kelley exchanges a look with Tobin, but Tobin’s just as confused.

“Count up with your fingers,” Alex tells her patiently. “Start with ‘97.”

“’97, ’98, ’99, ’00, ’01, ’02, ’03…” Kelley trails off. “Oh.”

“Stay in school kids,” Tobin says and faces the camera, grinning cheekily.

Kelley reaches over Alex to slap Tobin’s shoulder. “You were just as lost as I was!”

“But I knew we were going into the eighth season, so I feel like I’m still ahead.”

“Looks like you guys have a good rapport outside of the show too,” the interviewer comments with a smile.

“Yeah,” Tobin confirms, shrugging away from Kelley’s reaching hands. “We all spend a lot of time together even when we’re not filming. Like for events.”

“And in our downtime too,” Alex says.

“Yeah, definitely.”

“I’m pretty sure I saw these losers more than I saw my parents last year.” Kelley laughs.

“And you guys do schooling on set, right? There was a picture, I think, of one of your cast mates working hard over a biology textbook.”

“Bue,” all three of them chime.

“Some of us just work harder than others,” Kelley says. And then pointedly, “Tobin.”

Tobin shrugs, unbothered.

“Do any of you feel like you kind of missed out on having a normal life though, like high school drama or school dances? Stuff like that.”

“Well I think all of us can do without the drama,” Kelley says, looking at her co-stars for confirmation.

“Right,” Alex agrees. “And we dance on set a lot actually.”

“Yeah, Kelley thinks she has moves,” Tobin mocks.

“I do. The Sprinkler is my go to.” Kelley demonstrates for their amusement.

Once the laughter dies down, the interviewer presses on. “So what can we expect in this upcoming season?”

“Uhhh… drama,” Tobin says.

“Yep. Lots of it.”

“There’s some fun stuff too. I don’t know if we can talk about it,” Kelley says. “Don’t want to get into trouble with the higher ups.”

“Again,” Tobin mutters, ignoring the playful glare Kelley shoots her way.

“Well, we all definitely get more screen time. And we get to hang out with like Syd and Abby and Carli,” Alex says.

“It’s basically just a grand old time,” Kelley says.

Tobin chuckles and says a little sarcastically, “Grand… grand old time. Yeah, that’s season eight.”

The interviewer checks his watch and gestures. “Well, thank you ladies, it was a pleasure to interview all three of you. I hope to see you guys next year too!”

“We’ll definitely look forward to it,” Alex says, smiling winningly at him.

The cameraman nods, and he and the interviewer head on to the next table. Without the scrutiny of the camera, the three girls are able to relax.

“How much longer till dinner?” Kelley asks, shoulders slumping, exaggeratedly holding her stomach.

“It’s like four now,” Tobin says, “so maybe a couple hours.”

“Oh man,” Kelley says, suddenly alert, “I gotta go find Barnie, we have that giveaway thing.”

As Kelley scampers off, Tobin stands too, tugging at Alex’s sleeve.

“Come on, we should get to the autographs booth or Pia will yell,” Tobin says. _Again_ , she almost adds.

“Careful, Heath,” Alex teases as she follows, “or someone might mistake you for a responsible individual.”

Their elbows bump affectionately the entire walk to the other side of the conference center.

 

///

 

Having Tobin Heath over is apparently a big deal. Alex’s parents fuss over every detail in every room: the table cloth needs to drape just so and the curtains are drawn too tight or not tight enough. This is how Alex knows that her parents don’t have the slightest inkling of what Tobin is really like. As long as Tobin’s got a roof over her head, she’s golden.

Still, her parents’ anxieties are palpable when Tobin finally arrives, giving off such vibes that Tobin herself seems a little nervous walking in as well. Though her mother offers up Jeri’s old room, Tobin insists on the couch. Alex has never met anyone more stubborn than her mother, so she expects Tobin to acquiesce after a minute or two. But Tobin turns on the charm with a lopsided smile, and for the first time in Alex’s life, her mother is the one to back down.

After an uneventful dinner, Alex and Tobin stay up to watch _Finding Nemo_. Alex burrows her feet under Tobin’s legs, and it’s well past midnight when they’re done. Alex tosses Tobin a pillow and a blanket before heading off to bed with a mumbled, “Night.”

Tired after a long day of interviews and promotional appearances, Alex falls into bed gratefully and sleeps soundly until—

“... you awake?”

Alex groans, squinting at Tobin’s dark shape hovering near the foot of her bed. Stretching her neck, Alex looks for the liquid green digits of her alarm clock. _3:21AM._

“Alex?”

“What?”

“Your, uh, dog really likes me… which is fine but he keeps licking my feet. Won’t leave me alone,” Tobin whispers.

Alex scoffs and rolls onto her side. “Just sleep here then.”

“You sure?”

Alex mumbles something back, too exhausted for anything coherent. Before she falls into her slumber again, she feels her mattress dip with Tobin’s weight and her body heat against Alex’s back.

 

///

 

Alex Morgan is a sleep cuddler, Tobin discovers.

When the birds chirping outside wake Tobin up in the morning, she’s on her back in Alex’s bed. Her arm is numb, and Alex’s cheek rests against her right shoulder. She thinks Alex might also have an arm flung across her stomach under the covers, but Tobin can’t be sure. It’s not the most comfortable position in the world, but she’s strangely content staying like that.

Tobin’s eyes trace down the straight line of Alex’s nose down to her slightly parted lips. A stray strand of light brown hair tumbles down into Alex’s face, over her closed eyes. Immediately, Tobin moves her free hand up to brush it away.

Alex stirs, eyelashes fluttering as she rouses. It takes a few seconds before she is awake enough to take stock of her surroundings.

“Hey,” Alex mutters into Tobin’s oversized t-shirt, burrowing her nose into the material. Her voice is gravelly with sleep, and Tobin smiles reflexively.

“Hey,” Tobin echoes lamely.

Alex moves to untangle herself from Tobin, and belatedly, Tobin realizes they’re a lot closer to the edge of the bed than she thought. Next thing she knows, they’re slipping and slipping, and they fall off with a thump.

Though her bones and muscles protest upon impact, Tobin is surprised into a laugh. Alex laughs too, hands fisted in Tobin’s shirt, straddling her lap. The light pours in from the window, bathing them in warmth, haloing in Alex’s hair gloriously.

Tobin sits up, entranced.

Every fiber of Tobin’s being is painfully aware of Alex’s presence and touch in that moment. And it’s a revelation, all too much at once.

The smile slides off Tobin’s face, replaced with something akin to wonder.

“Girls! Breakfast!”—cuts through the moment.

Turning, Alex calls back. “Coming!” She stands, offering a hand to Tobin. “You okay?”

Still staring, Tobin nods dumbly.

 

* * *

 

_November 15th, 2006 (Tobin: 18, Alex: 17)_

The season finale involves a big formal dance, requiring the whole cast to be on set. Alex has her first ever heavy and emotional scene in it. Abby and Ashlyn are constantly by her side during the day of filming, lending her words of advice and support.

As Jill, the director, speaks with the cameramen, Alex prepares herself, channeling her anger and getting in character. Sydney, her partner for the scene, avoids Alex so as to not interfere with either of their states of mind.

Then they’re rolling and Alex puts every ounce of rage that she can behind her words. Sydney shoves her twice, and Alex loses her footing. They restart the scene and Sydney pushes at her again. Alex pushes back and they grapple while arguing, faces red and veins popping.

By the time Jill is satisfied with the footage, Alex’s throat is raw and her biceps ache from where Sydney had a firm grip on her.

“That’s a wrap for season ten,” Jill declares with a nod and a decisive clap. “Good job, girls.”

The crew breaks into applause and cheers of relief, filing about to pack everything up.

Alex and Sydney turn to each other and immediately burst into tears, rushing to hug each other.

“Are you okay?” Sydney asks between hiccups.

“Yeah,” Alex says, chuckling wetly.

Abby bowls into them, nearly knocking them over, and envelops both of them into a tight embrace.

“You two were amazing,” Abby says, grinning from ear to ear, “fucking amazing!”

As they separate, two scrawny arms wrap around Alex’s midsection from behind.

“Hey,” Tobin says.

“Hey.” Alex wipes away the last of her tears and rests her hands on Tobin’s.

Tobin continues to hug her and whispers in her ear. “Dude, you were great.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah, if it was up to me, you’d get an Emmy nom.”

“Just a nomination?” Alex asks as if offended.

“All the accolades.” Tobin amends.

The emotional fallout of the scene finally leaves Alex’s system, and she is stable again. She relaxes the muscles in her shoulders and takes a long breath.

When Alex glances over to see Sydney and Abby still talking, Sydney fixes Alex with a pointed look and raised eyebrow. Alex promptly extracts herself from Tobin without knowing why and blushes.

Unwilling to let the set go to waste, the season wrap up party takes place the next evening in the hall where they filmed the final few scenes. Lavender streamers hang from the muted accent lights against the walls and similarly colored balloons surround a raised stage in the formation of a semi-circle. Lauren picks the music, acting as the impromptu DJ, and reads the mood of the cast like a pro, choosing a blend of classic favorites and some newer experimental picks.

Becky and Hope sit at the bar, eating snacks and sharing watered-down drinks. Abby is on the dance floor, moving in what she thinks passes as dancing as a few of the other cast members look on, laughing and copying her.

Alex sits on the edge of the front stage, nursing an iced tea, happy to just watch her friends for the time being. Across the room she spies Tobin and Amy chatting absently and picking at their food. This is one of those rare occasions where Tobin is in a dress, a long shimmery silver number, and Alex maybe stares a little. Tobin looks up and catches Alex’s eye before Alex turns her head, feigning that she had been in the middle of a cursory glance around the room.

When she lets her eyes wander back in Tobin’s direction, Alex sees Dom Dwyer, Sydney’s onscreen boyfriend (and offscreen, as of last week), talking to Tobin and offering her his hand. The corners of Tobin’s eyes crinkle with amusement and she accepts, letting him lead her to the dance floor.

It’s a confusing spectacle, but Alex doesn’t have time to dwell on it as Sydney steps in front of her, cutting off her line of sight.

“Hey Alex, let’s dance,” Sydney demands, gesturing with her head.

“I’m kind of tired, Syd,” Alex says. “Probably just going to sit for awhile.”

“Alex.” Sydney’s voice is slow and measured. “Dance with me.”

“I’m… okay right here.”

“Alex,” Sydney hisses as she grabs Alex’s hand, “I made my pretty ass boyfriend ask Tobin to dance. Tobin! Patently gay Tobin! Do you understand what’s going on here?”

“Not really,” Alex says, brow furrowing.

“So pretty, so dumb,” Sydney bemoans. “Just a few songs, come on.”

“Fine,” Alex huffs, partly because she knows Sydney is relentless and partly because she’s curious as to what Sydney and Dom are scheming.

Sydney leads her, and they dance their way through two songs before Sydney herds Alex towards Tobin and Dom.

“Tobin, I’d like my boyfriend back,” Sydney says, poking her tongue out teasingly. “Let’s switch.”

Catching on now, Alex opens her mouth to object, but Sydney tightens her hold on Alex’s wrist warningly.

Tobin laughs sheepishly. “Yeah, sure. I’m done for tonight anyway.”

“And you’d leave Alex partnerless?” Sydney challenges.

“Uh...” Tobin looks at Alex uncertainly.

Alex desperately wants the floor to crack open and swallow her whole so that she doesn’t have to experience this situation a moment longer.

“Oh my God,” Sydney says, exasperated, “dance!”

With that, she pushes Alex into Tobin and drags Dom away. Alex stumbles and grabs onto Tobin’s bare shoulder as Tobin catches her around the waist.

“She’s a woman on a mission,” Tobin notes as Alex straightens.

“Apparently.”

Alex forces herself to stop fidgeting. It’s only Tobin, she reminds herself.

The music switches to a new song with a starkly different tone, slow and rhythmic guitar chords as opposed to the upbeat hip hop songs from before. Alex recognizes the song as Lifehouse’s _You and Me_.

“Looks like more people were in on it,” Tobin comments, narrowing her eyes at Lauren who waves innocently.

“I guess we should give them what they want,” Alex suggests, riding off of Sydney’s confidence. Might as well, now that they’re here.

Tobin raises an eyebrow questioningly.

Alex gently pries at Tobin’s stiff arms until they’re draped over Alex’s shoulders and places her hands at Tobin’s waist, the fabric of the dress smooth under her palms. Typically Alex is only an inch taller but tonight she’s in heels and Tobin’s not, so Alex has a good few inches on her.

Scowling, Tobin sways under Alex’s direction. “Last time you made me lead,” she argues.

“Last time was when we were twelve,” Alex reminds her, “and we’re literally moving from side to side right now. No one’s leading.”

“Put your arms around my neck.”

“But I’m taller.”

“Only ‘cause you’re cheating with those heels.”

“I’m taller either way,” Alex points out with a smirk.

Dom and Sydney have circled back near them, slow dancing as well. Sydney shakes her head. “Stop bickering. This is supposed to be romantic.”

“Maybe that’s their version of romance,” Dom quips.

Tobin redirects her scowl to the backs of the retreating couple, and Alex similarly casts her disdain their way. Sydney is as subtle as a giant gorilla rampaging about downtown, and Alex feels the beginnings of panic in her chest again. It doesn’t look good, like Alex was too much of a coward to make a move and asked Sydney to do this.

When Tobin turns back, Alex’s breath catches in her throat. Recognizing the tension Alex holds in her shoulders, something in Tobin’s face seems to soften, and she steps a little closer into their shared space, moving her arms to encircle Alex’s neck more properly.

“You’re just as bossy as you were when we were thirteen,” Tobin teases, nudging Alex lightly with her arm. Her grin is so easy, so relaxed that Alex reflexively reciprocates and hopes it doesn’t come off looking more like a grimace.

“I wanted to get it right,” Alex defends, her eyes glued to Tobin’s bare shoulder where her hand had been placed the last time they did this.

Tobin’s seemingly uncanny ability for noticing the subtle changes in her moods makes Alex feel transparent, naked. It’s something that she usually loves about their friendship, but tonight it only highlights Alex’s vulnerabilities.

“Yeah, in case Steve asked you to dance,” Tobin says with a playful roll of her eyes, recalling Alex’s first on-set crush, a guest star whose eyes Alex once thought were ‘oh so dreamy’ to which Tobin had shrugged ‘eh, I guess, if you’re into that floppy haired JTT look’.

“Well, Steve’s not here,” Alex mumbles. A flush creeps up her neck as her fingers play with the loose material around Tobin’s waist. Alex is both relieved and grateful that Tobin is doing what she does best, keeping the mood light.

Another part of Alex, however, wants this moment to be real, to be special. She dips her chin into Tobin’s shoulder, hoping to cut off whatever retort Tobin probably already has at the tip of her tongue. There’s a sharp intake of breath next to her ear, but neither of them acknowledge it.

“He’s not,” Tobin agrees after a while, and Alex burrows her face deeper, taking comfort in the familiar scent she breathes in as they continue swaying into the next song.

 

* * *

 

_December 25th, 2008 (Tobin: 20, Alex: 19)_

Tobin arrives at Pia’s place about a half hour after the party has started. It’s only the second time she’s ever been, and the exterior looks completely transformed for the winter holidays. Multi-color lights line the roof and outside paneling in dotted greens, reds, and whites. Reindeer and elf decorations litter the lawn generously, and Tobin weaves her way between them to reach the front door.

After a long reverberating ring, Megan answers the door in the ugliest Christmas sweater Tobin has ever seen and greets her with an one-armed hug. Tobin steps into the foyer and swivels, taking it all in. Pia has coated the walls with green and gold glitter and hung wreaths in the center of every door. A majestic pine stands in between the two staircases leading upwards to the second floor, decked out in swag, guarding a huge swath of immaculately wrapped presents.

“Damn, she goes all out,” Tobin says, awed.

Megan laughs and guides her to the living room where the other guests have gathered. Casually, Tobin slides in next to Kelley, shoulder bumping hers as she mentally amends her previous statement about the Christmas sweater (Kelley’s is somehow far worse).

“You think I can get Hope under the mistletoe with me?” Kelley asks, leaning into her.

Tobin laughs. “Yeah, and also a punch to the face.”

“Christmas miracle, come on.”

“I’ll believe it when I see it.”

“You have a miracle in mind for yourself, Toby?”

“I’ll take whatever God throws my way,” Tobin says, “but hopefully it’ll be the end of the name ‘Toby.’”

“What’s being thrown your way?” Amy asks as she hands Tobin a beer.

“Some game would be nice,” Kelley says, winking as she shoots Tobin a pair of finger guns.

Tobin pops the cap off the bottle using the ring on her middle finger. “I have _plenty_ of game.”

“So why aren’t you and Alex dating then?”

Mid-sip, Tobin chokes and splutters.

“See? No game,” Kelley says with a triumphant grin. “Am I right, ARod?”

Amy holds her hands up. “So not getting involved,” she says, hopping off the couch.

Tobin glares, wiping at her nose and mouth with a napkin.

“It’s your last chance,” Kelley reminds her unnecessarily, “before we all move in different directions.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Tobin mumbles.

“You’re hopeless.”

Tobin knows she’s right. But the affection that Tobin has for Alex feels endlessly complex, like love in its infancy, like fear magnified a hundred times, like an attachment that can’t be shaken off. If there are even words to express that, Tobin doesn’t know them. And so what she and Alex have now seems close enough. (It has to be.)

Kelley watches her closely, maybe too closely, so Tobin musters up a smirk and a joke. “No, _you’re_ Hope-less.”

That gets Kelley off the topic with a sputtering protest.

 

///

 

The realization that Pia’s Christmas party will be the last time that they’re all together hits Alex full force.

Even with New Year’s Eve—her favorite holiday—just around the corner, her heart is heavy this time around. The show couldn’t last forever, she’d understood that from day one, but now that the end is actually upon her, Alex is distraught. It’s all she’s known for the past seven years, and she needs at least seven more years with the people who have become her best friends and mentors.

Still, she keeps her head up, keeps a grin on her face.

She sings a verse or two of _Santa Baby_ with Sydney that has Ashlyn and Julie in stitches. Then Pia and Abby pull her into a conversation about TV movies. Alex flits from group to group, so unwilling to let any of this go.

“Hey,” Tobin greets when Alex comes around to the living room.

Tobin’s in dark sweatpants and a striped tank, as casual as can be, so quintessentially herself. It strikes Alex then that she doesn’t know when she’ll see Tobin again. Tobin’s parents live on the East Coast, and Tobin has a dream to travel and see the world. It’s a frightening thought that she and Tobin might just drift apart, might just let life get in the way. Alex doesn’t know what to do with this new fear.

“Hey,” Alex says back, hugging Tobin tightly. Then she lifts Tobin slightly off the floor and swings her around twice before setting her down.

Tobin beams at her. “What was that for?”

“Because I’m going to miss you, dummy.”

“Why?” Tobin asks teasingly.

“You know why,” Alex says faintly.

“Come on.” Tobin clasps Alex’s hand and her eyes soften. Just for Alex. “It’s not goodbye yet.”

 

///

 

When the festivities have died down and everyone is stuffed from an extravagant dinner, Tobin knows it’s time to say their goodbyes. The amount of tears and laughter is about equal, and Tobin finds herself wiping at her eyes every few seconds. The promises they all make about keeping in touch might very well be broken in a few years time, but for tonight, Tobin believes every single word.

“Merry Christmas, Tobin,” Alex says, cornering her before she leaves.

Alex hands Tobin a thin rectangular box encased in simple white paper.

“What is this?” Tobin asks.

“A present,” Alex replies with the raise of an eyebrow. “Friends sometimes give them to each other.”

Tobin chuckles and makes to unwrap it, but Alex reaches out and stills her fingers.

“Later,” Alex says quietly. Then she presses her lips to the corner of Tobin’s mouth sweetly.

(And Tobin’s heart wants to burst with the entirety of this moment.)

“Okay,” Tobin says.

“Okay.” Alex smiles.

That’s when Tobin knows for sure that this is far from a goodbye.

(Tobin waits until she’s at the airport to open Alex’s gift, popping the lid hesitantly. Inside is a single charm silver chain bracelet engraved with an eagle taking flight, the logo of _Aquila Academy_ , the fictional school on their show. It takes Tobin four tries to hook it around her wrist. She lifts her arm, observing the way it hangs perfectly, and misses Alex a little already.)

 

* * *

 

_December 19th, 2009 (Tobin: 21, Alex: 20)_

“ _All done with finals then?_ ” Ashlyn’s voice filters over a bit muffled.

“Mhm,” Alex replies, switching her phone to her other hand. “Just packing now.”

For a few seconds, all Alex can hear is the rustling of plastic bags in the background. “ _Sorry, I’m packing too._ ”

“You going somewhere?”

“ _I’m moving in with Ali. I thought I told you,_ ” Ashlyn says distractedly. “ _I’ve just been crazy busy, what with updating my address everywhere and shopping for some new furniture and—”_

“Ash.” Alex chuckles, endeared by her friend’s behavior. “It’s no problem at all. I totally understand.”

“ _Yeah, it’s kind of a big step I guess_.”

“It is,” Alex says. “How’re you feeling about it? Like really feeling?”

Ashlyn doesn’t answer right away, but Alex can envision that not-quite dopey smile that Ashlyn dons every time she talks about her future with her girlfriend. “ _Honestly, I’m not even nervous. I know exactly where I wanna be and where I’m going. Knowing Ali will be with me every step of the way is all I need._ ”

Chest tightening, Alex swallows her envy and tries to focus on Ashlyn’s happiness and confidence.

“ _Enough about me. You going home for break?”_

“No. Tobin invited me to Spain.”

“ _Spain? She living there? That’s swanky._ ”

“She’s just there for two months. Filming.”

“ _So you two keep in touch then._ ”

International rates made texting difficult, and the frequent changing difference in time zones as Tobin traveled certainly didn’t help with communication either. Alex was just able to find one matching instance in their shared schedules to Skype during her Spring semester. Seeing Tobin’s pixelated face on her laptop screen had only made the distance between them more frustrating, more evident.

Still, Alex answers, “Sometimes.”

“ _You excited?”_

Excited? Not exactly.

A year away from Tobin was one of the hardest things Alex ever endured. Every little thing would remind Alex of Tobin, and inevitably she would want to tell Tobin each detail down to the insignificant and incoherent. More than once Alex would twist in her seat, mouth open, to find empty space, and sink in disappointment. Missing Tobin was an unfamiliar and unwelcome feeling, unbroken by any amount of socialization with other friends.

No, excited isn’t right at all. Cautiously hopeful, maybe. Apprehensive, definitely.

“ _Alex?_ ”

Alex bites her lip, wistful for what Ashlyn and Ali have. Their certainty and safety.

“Yeah,” Alex says finally. “I really… It’ll be good to see her.”

When Alex arrives at Madrid-Barajas Airport approximately fifteen hours later, her palms are sweaty despite the slight chill in the air. She shoulders her duffel bag and tugs on her suitcase, heading to customs. She makes some small talk with the customs officer who compliments her on her Spanish. Then she’s past the baggage claim and on her way to the arrival lobby.

Alex clenches the handle of her suitcase tightly. It’s ridiculous to be nervous, and yet.

The doors slide open and Alex scans the crowd, unreasonably afraid that she won’t recognize Tobin though it’s only been a year. With each passing second, Alex’s heart beats faster, and the people’s faces blur together. Maybe the plane got in too early, maybe Tobin’s late, maybe this is somehow the wrong airport, maybe—

“Alex! Alex Morgan!”

Alex pivots towards the call and catches sight of a familiar smile, so unrestrained and beautiful.

Then she drops into a run, flying across the waiting room and, tossing aside her luggage, jumps into Tobin’s open, awaiting embrace. Alex wraps her legs around a slender waist and locks her wrists behind Tobin’s head. A grin, as big and wild as Tobin’s, spreads across Alex’s face.

“Hey,” Tobin says simply, holding her, and Alex should've known that no amount of time, no amount of distance could take Tobin away from her. Not truly.

“Hey,” Alex says as Tobin sets her down carefully.

Fingers still digging into Tobin’s shoulder, Alex stares and stares. Tobin’s skin is darker, tanned from her days under the sun all year long, but the twinkle in her eyes, the curve of her lips, the edge of her jawline are all exactly as Alex remembered. If Alex hadn’t just spent a difficult year away from Tobin and the rest of the cast of _Aquila_ , she could swear that no time had passed.

“Did you miss me?” Tobin asks playfully.

Alex slugs Tobin across the shoulder and gathers up her belongings, embarrassedly strewn about on the floor.

“So only everyday?” Tobin grins.

“If you weren’t so bad at replying to emails, I wouldn’t have to miss you at all,” Alex says as she follows Tobin out. Honestly, Alex thought she’d be more bitter about it, but in the presence of Tobin any trace of that emotion gives way to something softer, something forgiving.

“I’m working on that,” Tobin says, flagging down the first taxi.

“Catch me up on your life,” Alex says as the driver takes her bags, and the two of them slide into the backseat comfortably.

“Uh I tried a semester at Rutgers,” Tobin says, “but college life was not for me.”

Alex cocks her head and feels a twinge low in her gut of surprise (and maybe something else too).

“Rutgers, really? I’m not sure I can see you in a classroom.”

“Yeah, well, neither could my professors.”

Alex laughs as Tobin grins lopsidedly. In their time apart, there were instances when Alex had to struggle a little to picture Tobin’s smile just right. Now, faced with the real thing, Alex’s memory pales in comparison, and yet she still wants to memorize the slant of Tobin’s mouth for when they are separated again. (And though Alex is loathe to remind herself of it, that time will come faster than she expects.)

The taxi driver asks them their destination, and Alex watches amusedly as Tobin uses some remarkably broken Spanish phrases to direct him to a hotel.

“Okay so no to college, what then?” Alex asks once Tobin’s done, eager to know everything about her again.

“Remember Alyssa? She helped us with choreography like season nine or something.”

“I remember,” Alex says patiently—or as patient as Alex Morgan gets.

“She said she saw some of Kelley’s YouTube vids with me doing some flips and stuff.”

Narrowing her eyes, Alex asks, “Your really, really dangerous and stupid flips?”

“Yeah, those.”

“I’m going to hate where you’re going with this,” Alex predicts with a sigh.

“Probably. Anyway, she said that the movie she was working on was short a stunt double. Needed to have acting experience, be 5’6” ish, have brown hair, and lanky limbs. I think my limbs are pretty normal but—”

Alex runs a hand over Tobin’s arm. “Eh, lanky.”

“Don’t be rude.” Tobin jostles Alex’s knee with hers. “Anyway, long story short _I think_ I’m a stuntwoman?”

Alex rolls her eyes, “I knew I wouldn’t like the story.”

“Hey, I’m a pretty good one,” Tobin defends.

“I’m so sure,” Alex says, this time softer.

A stuntwoman. Tobin could pick up an entire new career without Alex’s knowledge—what else is she missing out on? The twinge from before returns and this time Alex recognizes it as a quiet wistfulness, wondering at the distance between them.

From the corner of her eye, Alex sees Tobin tilting her head to the side, observing or trying to read Alex as effortlessly as she used to.

Tobin settles on changing the subject and asks, “What about you, acing all your classes?”

Exhaling hard through her nose, Alex allows the distraction to be a relief. “I only got a B+ in Classical Theories of Political Economy. I’m pretty sure it’s ‘cause my GSI hated me.”

“How tragic,” Tobin drawls. Just like that the situation is full of levity again. “You’ve truly disappointed me, Morgan.”

Alex elbows Tobin in the gut, and Tobin clutches at her stomach, feigning a mortal wound.

Tobin’s joking tone doesn’t fix anything but the way her fingers brush carelessly over Alex’s knuckles are healing anyway. And for that, Alex can muster up a smile.

 

///

 

It turns out Alex likes doing touristy things like watching the Flamenco dancers and touring the Alhambra. Tobin humors her for a few days before she _accidentally_ loses Alex’s itinerary and drags her down to Barcelona. They crash with Tobin’s friend—some dude who introduces himself as ‘Che, like Jay, only… not’ and whose last name Tobin doesn’t even know but ‘seemed chill’ from the _one_ time they went surfing together—sharing a long sofa that forces them to sleep wrapped tightly around one another. Though Alex calls Tobin’s lifestyle anarchy, she seems to enjoy it or at least the change of pace it presents.

During the day, Alex insists on trying new foods and catching some local concerts. In exchange, Tobin chooses their evening activities. It’s not the season for swimming so they just walk along the moderately populated beaches, sand cool beneath their bare feet. One night Tobin tackles Alex into the chilly waters of the Balearic Sea and, after a bit of competitive splashing, that’s the end of their nightly walks. (And the next night Tobin and Alex fall off the tiny ass couch just as the sun is rising, so that’s the end of their Barcelona detour as well.)

They take the train back to Madrid and laze about for a few days before Alex is motivated to go sight seeing again. During one of their outings, Tobin mistakenly orders a plate of just cheese for lunch which Alex mischievously doesn’t correct. In retribution, when Alex takes (what Tobin deems as) too long snapping pictures of the Plaza Mayor, Tobin surprises her from behind and initiates a tickling war until they’re both doubled over, gasping and breathless from laughter.

(Tobin can’t remember the last time she was this happy.)

When they get bored of wandering around, Alex leads the way to a bar and Tobin follows, intrigued. It’s fairly crowded considering it’s only 7PM, but they manage to squeeze into an empty booth anyway.

“Trying to get in with Spain’s drinking age laws?” Tobin asks, yelling over the loud live music and surrounding chatter.

“I have no idea what you’re talking about,” Alex shouts back, grinning impishly.

Alex takes the chance to show off her Spanish and orders a _tinto de verano_ for herself and a regular draft beer for Tobin.

“Look at you,” Tobin says admiringly, “like you fit in with the locals.”

“I’m gonna wash my hands real quick,” Alex says.

“Alright,” Tobin says. “I’m gonna be tweeting something cryptic so PR doesn’t have me fired.”

Not even a minute after Alex has left someone else slides into her spot.

“Uh hey,” Tobin says and manages a confused smile.

“Oh,” the stranger, a woman, says. She’s probably in her mid twenties, long and wavy black hair like a mane, and big doe eyes. In a word, she’s gorgeous. She laughs, one hand covering her mouth, embarrassed. Then she says some stuff in what Tobin presumes is Spanish, and it goes completely over Tobin’s head.

“Uh, _no hablo español_ ,” Tobin says immediately. That and ‘where is the bathroom’ are the only phrases she’s got under her belt. “Sorry.”

The woman smiles. “I do not speak English,” she responds in a heavy accent.

Getting the sense that the only true verbal communication they can have is saying that they don’t speak each other’s languages, Tobin matches her sheepish laugh. Out of the corner of her eye, Tobin catches sight of Alex returning.

“My friend,” Tobin explains, pointing towards Alex, “it’s her seat,” and gestures at the other side of the booth.

The woman nods like she completely understands and stands, allowing Alex to slide back in.

“Mixed up seats,” Tobin says to Alex.

“ _Estás tan buena que te comería con ropa y todo_ ,” the woman says lowly as she brushes past Tobin’s shoulder. “ _Adiós desconocida_.”

Alex’s eyes widen briefly before narrowing to an expression Tobin’s never seen on her face before. Tobin struggles to read Alex’s mood. Anger maybe?

“What’d she say?” Tobin asks.

“Goodbye stranger,” Alex says, determinedly avoiding eye contact with her.

“Seems like a lot of words for that,” Tobin comments.

If possible, Alex becomes even more sulky after that. She answers in monosyllables and grunts, forcing Tobin to carry the conversation by herself. Every so often Alex’s hand will drift to cover Tobin’s, so at least she knows Alex isn’t angry with her.

After they finish their drinks, they begin to head out of the bar and make the walk back to their hotel. As they’re exiting, the woman from before catches Tobin’s eye and winks at her. Tobin waves politely.

“She should keep both eyes open so she doesn’t sit in the wrong seat again,” Alex grumbles, quiet enough that Tobin only barely catches it.

It finally clicks in Tobin’s head.

Alex’s sullenness, her wordless glares, the woman’s wink at Tobin. In all the time that they’ve known each other, Tobin has seen Alex uncomfortable, protective, carefree, dejected, grumpy, and much more. Tobin assumed that she’d seen every facet that Alex could offer, but tonight has proven her wrong. Tonight Alex is jealous, a restrained insecurity that is clearly eating away at her.

Words have never been Tobin’s forte, and she doesn’t know how to make this better.

She shoves her hands into her pockets, mulling over what she should do, and the walk back is spent in silence.

 

///

 

“I’m going to jump in the shower,” Alex says as soon as they reach their hotel room.

Tobin nods absently and flops down onto the bed, quickly messing up the pristinely folded sheets.

The distance between them has never felt larger, Alex thinks and struggles to blink away tears at the thought.

As the hot water beats down on Alex’s bare back, soothing away her aches and pains, she lets her riotous emotions swirl into the drain as well. She hadn’t meant to let her pettiness get in the way of a nice evening. But when that random woman at the bar had blatantly flirted with Tobin…

Alex finally admits to herself something she’s felt for years but never had the chance to put into concrete thoughts and words.

Alex is Tobin’s, in whatever way a person can be another’s.

Curling her hand into a fist, Alex resists the urge to hit the tiled wall and wills herself to accept the truth.

Once Alex is finished, she dresses in a loose white tank top and a pair of old shorts and towels off her wet hair. When she emerges from the bathroom, she finds Tobin standing by the window, looking out contemplatively.

“You wanna shower too?” Alex asks.

Tobin nods. As she approaches, Alex moves to get out of her way, but Tobin reaches out, clasping Alex’s hand and pulling her closer. Then, Tobin’s thumb brushes Alex’s chin. Without any hesitation or urgency, Tobin leans in and kisses Alex. It’s simple and nonchalant, as if they’ve done this every single day of their life and will continue to do so.

Just as quickly, Tobin pulls away and closes the bathroom door behind her. Shocked, Alex brings her fingers to her lips. She wonders if she imagined it, if she had wanted it so badly that it had manifested in her mind. Questions spiral around in her head, and she struggles to keep her breathing even.

The twenty minutes Tobin takes in the shower are agonizingly long. At first Alex wants to ask why, wants Tobin to explain herself, but by the time Tobin emerges, hair stringy and dark, Alex no longer wants words.

Alex strides forward and grabs Tobin by the back of her neck, pulling her in almost violently. Their mouths clash together and Tobin’s teeth click painfully against hers, bringing tears to Alex’s eyes. Then Alex shifts slightly and they fit against each other easily, like their bodies had known for years that this was going to happen. Tobin groans and folds her arms around Alex, hands sliding up Alex’s back, mapping out every shifting muscle and hard jut of bone. Alex pours everything forward, every ounce of want, of will, of hurt, and Tobin accepts it all.

This is real. Alex is certain of it.

The desperation that had clawed at Alex’s chest fades, giving way to tranquility, and she’s balanced for the first time. She breaks the kiss and rests her forehead against Tobin’s damp one.

“You looked like you wanted to kiss me,” Tobin says softly, breath fanning against Alex’s face.

“I did,” Alex says, voice scratchier than usual. “I do.”

And that’s all there is to say really.

 

///

 

The root of jealousy, Tobin’s mother had once said, is insecurity. No amount of reassuring words could soothe that irrational beast, only actions, specifically disproving actions, would accomplish it. Tobin hadn’t understood as a child, but with Alex’s darkened expression and sagging posture, it made sense. Only in the moment right before the kiss did Tobin know which disproving action was fitting.

And now it’s not something that needs to be discussed. Tobin is still Tobin, and Alex will never be anyone but Alex. When they hold hands, swinging their arms, as they walk down Madrid’s main streets, Tobin briefly mourns all the years that she’d been too afraid to make a move. But at night when Alex draws Tobin into her arms and they kiss lazily for what feels like hours, Tobin knows that they’ve arrived at this moment precisely when they were meant to.

There have been other women in Tobin’s life, whether for a night or a month, and those relationships were easily defined, easily struck up, easily ended. Her previous experiences were about having a good time, but with Alex it’s always been camaraderie and love, the kind that only ever keeps expanding. There is no label or name that Tobin is willing to put on them. Not yet.

(Maybe if Tobin was a braver woman...)

But whatever this friendship has evolved into, well, it’s Tobin’s, Alex’s too, and that’s all she knows for sure.

On Alex’s last night in Spain, she clings to Tobin in their shared bed and every so often peppers light pecks on Tobin’s face. There’s an apparent anxiety in Alex’s movements, and Tobin tries to center them both with whispered assurances.

“I got a job offer,” Alex says eventually. She sits up and Tobin matches her.

“Yeah?”

“Yep.”

It’s not like Alex to be cryptic like this.

“What is it?” Tobin asks.

“One of my professors is a linguistics consultant for some studio,” Alex says and bites her lip. “She had us do some voice acting for extra credit last semester. The studio offered me a minor role on one of their kids’ shows.”

“Voice acting?”

“Yeah, I guess it’s kind of lame,” Alex says with an air of indifference, but Tobin can sense it’s not genuine. This is something that Alex wants, even if she’s not fully committed yet.

“I dunno.” Tobin shrugs with an air of nonchalance. “Your voice is pretty sexy. I can see why the studios would want you.”

Alex pinches Tobin’s thigh without any real conviction, such that Tobin knows her response was the right one. “I was being serious.”

“So was I,” Tobin says and laughs as she bats Alex’s hand away. “Al, do you wanna do it?”

“The job? Maybe.” The way Alex casts her eyes downwards gives her away, and Tobin searches within herself for the right words of encouragement.

“And what about voice acting?”

“I don’t know.” Alex hugs her knees closer to her body.

Tobin’s not sure yet what to say. Follow your dreams, and other such platitudes seem meaningless between two people as close as they are. After a pause, all she can offer is a distraction. “We can talk about something else.”

“Like what?”

“Like the movie I’m going to be working with HAO on.”

Alex plays along, dropping her worry for now. “What movie?”

“Oh well it’s all very hush hush right now,” Tobin says. Her joking tone elicits a small smile from Alex.

“Well,” Alex draws the word out, “I’m sure I can think of a way to get you to tell me.”

Tobin doesn’t resist when Alex tackles her off the bed and to the carpeted floor. Alex always wins in the end anyway.

 

///

 

It feels as if Alex arrived in Madrid just yesterday and now she’s leaving already. Alex packs in silence and slides into the back of the taxi with Tobin without a word. The ride to the airport is spent similarly.

The familiar heartache of missing Tobin has already returned and even Tobin’s hand in hers does not assuage it. Standing before the security checkpoint, Alex’s grip tightens around Tobin’s arm.

“We’re pretty early,” Tobin says. “You don’t have to go in yet.”

“I’m really bad at saying goodbye,” Alex says.

Tobin presses her lips to Alex’s cheek. “Did I ever tell you about the philosophy class I took?”

“Philosophy? You?” Alex asks with a chuckle.

“Yeah, it was pretty bad,” Tobin admits. “But the professor was chill. He shared his joints with me a couple times.”

Any other time Alex would’ve rolled her eyes, but instead she wonders what Tobin’s getting at.

“We were pretty high this one time and he told me something. Maybe it was because it was good weed but I thought it was really profound,” Tobin says. “He was talking about leaps of faith and the origin of it. The phrase is from some dead guy, Kierkegaard, I think. Anyway, this dude said faith is never about evidence. We shouldn’t try to prove the existence of God with like reason. Faith is irrational, it demands risk.”

“Okay…”

“I think faith is what ties us all. It’s in trust, in friendship, in love, in God,” Tobin says. “You know?”

“Is this like… stoner advice? What’s going on?”

Tobin laughs good-naturedly and says, “Yeah, it is. I just meant, all the risks I’ve ever taken have gotten me here.” She places her hands on Alex’s waist. “Here, with you. So I have faith in us and our choices. Take that job, Alex. Get into voice acting. And say goodbye to me. It won’t be easy, but I’m confident that we’ll be led right back together.”

Somehow it’s exactly what Alex needs to hear in this moment. The corners of Alex’s lips lift and she hugs Tobin. There’s a lot of ambivalence in her life, but Tobin’s arms secure around her act as an anchor, and Alex knows she can face the unknown ahead of them.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you to everyone who took the time to read this far~ Leave a comment if you feel so inclined.
> 
> Chapter 2 will be up in a few days.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A big thanks to Jessie, [red_thread](http://archiveofourown.org/users/red_thread), and [windowbedsthebest](http://archiveofourown.org/users/windowbedsthebest) for your feedback and time.
> 
> Enjoy!

_Over here, I can't count the miles away_  
_From where I wanna be_  
_I bet your skin is warm  
And that you're smiling_

 

* * *

 

_May 29th, 2010 (Tobin: 22, Alex: 20)_

The sweltering heat makes Tobin’s head spin. Only Kelley’s steering hand on the small of Tobin’s back steadies her. The black blindfold that Kelley had insisted on rests snugly over Tobin’s eyes, and Tobin reaches out with her hands on either side of her as they walk forward, knowing that Kelley won’t be mindful of corners. A faint scent of floor wax permeates the humid air, and it has Tobin wondering just where Kelley is taking her.

Abruptly, Kelley pulls Tobin to a stop and fiddles with the knot behind her head. The cloth slips away, revealing a brightly lit bowling alley with a small crowd of barely restrained people in the otherwise cleared out lobby area.

“Happy Birthday, Tobin!”

The combination of her friends’ voices echoes and shakes through the hall. From her _Aquila_ days, Heather, Lauren, Julie, and Amy are here; from more recent projects, Alyssa, Allie, and Crystal wave; her roommates from her one semester at college, Casey and Nikki, are also present, sandwiching Perry in between them.

Taken aback, Tobin’s mouth stretches into a wide smile as she laughs. Running forward, she leaps into their arms, and they pile into a group hug. Tobin sinks down with them, grinning so hard that her cheeks hurt.

Once they’ve disentangled, Tobin instinctively seeks out Alex, eyes scanning the numerous happy faces. She finds only a faint dismay.

“She’s getting in a little later,” Kelley shouts into Tobin’s ear over the chatter.

Tobin’s first impulse is to play dumb—which she’s pretty good at (though the playing part has been contested)—but she can’t deny the immediate surge of anticipation at Kelley’s words. Easing into a casual stance, Tobin stuffs her hands into her pockets.

“Thanks.” It’s said muffled, subdued, like maybe it meant nothing or like maybe it meant something. Safe now in the knowledge of Alex’s impending arrival, Tobin lets her focus wander back to her other friends.

Heather and Kelley team up for hilariously disastrous results: slipping on the lane, dropping the ball straight into the gutter, and so on. From the sidelines Alyssa tuts with disapproval and absolutely decimates everyone else with Perry’s help. For her part, Tobin gets two strikes (one accidental) and is more than satisfied with that.

Even without Alex’s presence, it’s a good day, a good birthday. Tobin is surrounded by people who care about her, love her, and want her to be happy. But still, when Kelley tells her that Alex’s plane has landed, Tobin knows today will go that extra mile.

Kelley’s generosity gets the party through several rounds of beer, though Tobin makes sure she doesn’t have too many. After an astounding amount of cake, Casey and Nikki get very competitive with their tipsy bowling performances. While the others are distracted by the display, Tobin slips out the back, lips slightly numb and pressed together.

Pittsburgh’s steep streets are tough to walk on a normal day, but with Alex waiting at one of Kelley’s spare apartments, Tobin finds it to be more of a challenge than usual. She sprints the last block, skin buzzing with expectancy as she dashes up to the third floor.

Catching her breath, Tobin pushes the door to Kelley’s open just a crack with her shoulder. Through that sliver of open space, she spots Alex reclining on the floral print living room sofa in a gauzy white sundress. Eyes tracing down Alex’s bare legs, Tobin’s mind clears, no longer clouded by the alcohol.

The floorboards creak as Tobin shifts her stance, and Alex whips her head around. Then Alex is up and speeding across the room, throwing her weight wholly into Tobin. Alex’s charge knocks the air out of Tobin’s gut, sending them both back into the hallway. With a small bounce, Alex grips Tobin’s waist with her legs and fists one hand in Tobin’s long hair, contrasted by the other that cradles the back of her head. Alex has never been the type of person to waste time, and Tobin has never been more thankful as their mouths meet, hot and impatient.

Staggering under Alex’s weight, Tobin’s back hits the wall. Alex laughs against Tobin’s mouth and Tobin matches her, reveling in the long-awaited reunion. Heartbeat thundering in her ears and arms straining a little, Tobin carries Alex into the room, kicking the door shut with her heel.

“You. Taste. Like. Cheap. Beer.” Alex punctuates each word with a playful nip at Tobin’s lips.

“Kelley bought the rounds, what did you expect?”

“Let’s not talk about Kelley right now.” Alex tightens her hold on Tobin pointedly.

“This is Kelley’s apartment though,” Tobin says.

Alex has evidently heard enough and pushes off the nearby corner with her elbows and hands. The momentum forces Tobin backwards unexpectedly, and the back of her knees meet with resistance. She sprawls onto a leather loveseat, Alex upright in her lap.

“Happy birthday. Now shut up,” Alex says breathlessly.

Tobin scrapes a nail delicately against Alex’s bared hipbone and savors the roughness in Alex’s eyes.

“It certainly is a happy birthday now,” Tobin says, throwing a cheesy smirk Alex’s way.

Alex shakes her head, mockingly exasperated, and Tobin stretches up, kissing her eagerly. It’s been months since they were last together, but this was certainly worth the wait. Alex seems to feel the same way as she sinks her teeth into Tobin’s lower lip, tugging slowly. The sound that Tobin expels is between a hiss and a groan, and she clenches at Alex’s hips tighter.

They head to the bedroom, falling into bed, and don’t emerge for what feels like days. As Tobin’s hands skate over the smooth skin of Alex’s back, she marvels at the fullness of her heart and head.

 

///

 

“I told you that we’d be back,” Tobin whispers as she nuzzles Alex’s shoulder.

Alex finds herself at ease in Tobin’s arms, made all the sweeter by their time apart. Absence did indeed make the heart grow fonder.

“I guess even you have to be right once in awhile,” Alex says, voice gravelly.

Tobin chuckles and presses herself against Alex’s back, tangling their legs together.

And well, Alex hopes Tobin is right about this for a long time.

 

* * *

 

_May 3rd, 2011 (Tobin: 22, Alex: 21)_

Graduation day is warm, too warm by Bay Area standards, made worse by the long black gowns and lack of shade at Edwards Stadium. She hadn’t even wanted to do General Commencement; her family is only driving up for her department graduation that’s in a few days (the one that really matters, because they won’t be sitting so far back in this suffocating heat just to catch a glimpse of a tiny speck that’s only _possibly_ Alex), and the idea of spending her last Saturday in town stuck listening to a bunch of speeches and waiting for her name to be called among some 2,400 other people so they can individually walk the stage did not appeal to her at all. But some of her friends graduating from other departments had convinced her that they should all walk together (‘for the selfies!’).

They somehow manage to end up towards the front of the line, meaning they are some of the first to get to their seats. It’s great… until it’s not. They’re still calling out names an hour later, and the heat is getting unbearable. She’s bored. She’s long-finished the tiny water bottle provided for her and the program booklet in her hand makes a pretty shitty makeshift fan. She and her friends have exhausted all the different duo and trio and group combinations for pictures, and she’s counted at least four ‘Hermione Grangers’ and five other obviously fake names that double as sexual innuendos when read aloud. Clearly, she’s not the only one who thinks Gen Comm is a waste of time.

Tobin Heath  
Today 11:43AM

What row r u sitting in

What?

There’s like a million of u

You’re here???

Can u sneak out?

Give me a sec  
_Read 11:46 AM_

Alex makes her cursory excuses to her gaggle of friends and slips out the stadium doors to the front steps, looking back and forth, searching for Tobin. If this is a prank, Alex will strangle Tobin next time she sees her. Before she has too much time to think of all the ways she could enact revenge, Tobin hugs Alex from behind, as she’s accustomed to doing. Usually, Alex would be more startled by random contact, but the motion is so familiar that her body knows it’s Tobin before her mind does.

“Surprise!” Tobin’s nose nudges the back of Alex’s neck. Though Alex is ecstatic by the turn of events, she doesn’t want to give Tobin the satisfaction and maintains a calm demeanor. Bunching the fabric of the gown in one hand, Tobin asks, “What’re you wearing under this?”

Alex narrows her eyes. “Why exactly do you need to know?”

“Just wondering what kind of activities we can do.”

Alex spins in Tobin’s hold to face her and raises an eyebrow, unimpressed.

Tobin throws her head back as she laughs. “Not that.”

“Sure,” Alex says dubiously.

They head to the side so Tobin can unzip the gown and shove it into her backpack. Alex keeps the cap on, unwilling to mess up her hair given all the strategically placed bobby pins she’d used to keep her cap in place, adjusting the tassel to one side as Tobin insists on snapping a picture of her with the hideous exterior of the stadium in the background. When Tobin’s stomach growls audibly, Alex takes her to Top Dog just off-campus for some garlic frankfurters. There’s no line that time of the day, and Alex looks on as Tobin strikes up a casual conversation with an old man who’s been a loyal customer since he attended Cal during the late sixties. Despite the cramped space, Tobin looks so at ease, and for a moment Alex allows herself to imagine what it would have felt like to have had Tobin here with her the past four years.

After the impromptu meal, Tobin insists on being shown around campus, from the classrooms to the administrative buildings. They both receive congratulations from a random passerby as they stroll past Sather Gate, and Alex doesn’t bother correcting the lady. Along the way, Tobin attempts to buy a lei from some woman, only to come up short on cash. So Alex ends up paying for two matching leis (the ones in her university colors, Tobin had insisted) instead. Typical.

Although Alex grumbles about Tobin’s silliness, it feels fitting that Tobin is here for this milestone in her life.

 

///

 

Tobin thinks of herself as a fairly laidback person, though maybe a little too easygoing for others at times. But that aspect of her personality occasionally feels like a facade, one that slips into place even when Tobin is far from feeling serene. It’s a good mask, and so even though Alex is an open book for Tobin to thumb through, the reverse isn’t always true. That being said, Alex does still notice that Tobin is somewhat quieter today.

“Something on your mind?” Alex asks, later, when they’re alone in an empty classroom in some building that starts with a _D_ , laid out on the cool linoleum floor.

“Yeah, maybe,” Tobin says distantly. Reaching out, Alex covers Tobin’s hand with hers. The motion draws Tobin’s attention, and she blinks at the touch. Reluctantly, she admits, “I might be homesick, I think. Been spending a lot of time moving around the past few years.”

Tobin expels a weary exhale and flops backwards, head in Alex’s lap. Alex’s thumb brushes comfortingly over Tobin’s forehead, rubbing small circles back and forth. Every so often Alex’s other fingers smooth over Tobin’s hairline, and Tobin can only sigh in complacency. The feather light touches pacify her, and so Tobin finally allows herself to be tired, truly tired, and relaxed.

Then Alex surprises Tobin by opening her mouth and singing an old hymn that Tobin recognizes immediately as _Down to the River to Pray_. Her voice is unsteady and quiet, lacking confidence but still in tune.

It’s been years since Tobin last heard this song. The choir at the church down the road that her parents and siblings attended dutifully every Sunday morning used to perform it once in awhile, and when she and her siblings were infants, her father would hum it under his breath, rocking them to sleep. Though Tobin doesn’t recall exactly, she must’ve mentioned it to Alex at some point.

That Alex would remember such a tiny detail, that she would sing it now, Tobin doesn’t know what to do with the pounding gratefulness in her heart or the sudden dizzying sentiment swimming around in her head.

And Tobin was wrong. That dull ache, that pained emptiness, it had nothing to do with missing home and everything to do with missing Alex.

“How long are you staying?” Alex asks.

“Dunno,” Tobin mumbles. “Gotta check in with my agent.”

“You could stick around for awhile. Find some local stuff.” Alex dares to broach the subject that’s been hanging over them for some time.

Tobin tenses without meaning to. She’s always relegated this topic to the back of her mind, kind of expected Alex to bail before this point. (Kind of still expects it.) Logically, she knows it’s not a demand—or even an invitation really—to settle down; all Alex is asking for is a little more of Tobin’s presence. But there’s also fear in Tobin’s heart, an unrelenting anxiety, something that constantly lurks in the background. And that fear asks Tobin questions she doesn’t want to hear.

Questions like: when will Alex realize that Tobin can’t give her a real future? And when Alex realizes, how fast will she leave? And when Alex leaves, can Tobin really blame her?

Still tense, Tobin replies, “Yeah, we’ll see.”

(Tobin jumps at the next offer that’ll fly her halfway around the world. Turning her back on Alex isn’t easy, but Tobin rationalizes that it’s certainly better than having to watch Alex leave instead.)

 

* * *

 

_March 9th, 2012 (Tobin: 23, Alex: 22)_

It’s late by the time Alex returns to her one bedroom apartment. After a week with long recording hours, she’d decided to go out with some co-workers for karaoke, which _note to self: drunk voice actors get very competitive and impressive over karaoke_. Alex’s never been one to back down from a challenge, and so not only did she consume the most amount of alcohol, she also performed a truly monumental (‘belty,’ Kaylyn claims, but fuck her) cover of _Party in the U.S.A._

Vocal work can be hard on her throat and emotionally wearing as well, but the people she works with most often are a good bunch. And it’s a satisfying feeling to plop down in _her_ sofa in _her_ apartment and flip on _her_ TV. It’s almost like she’s a real adult. To prove it, she’s even had people over in the first few months, family and a couple of friends. Tobin hasn’t seen the place yet, but Alex sets up a lawn chair on the balcony in anticipation of her visit.

Tobin’s been receiving a steady stream of job offers that range from kung-fu movies to Western-themed television shows. Not everything Tobin’s done has been exactly prestigious but Alex hardly has room to criticize.

(‘Babe, your most famous role is a Disney show villain.’

‘Disney _princess_! Princess Ingrid Crystal Frost was royalty before she got kidnapped by the League of Super Villains.’

‘Disney princesses don’t have villain alter egos named _Frostbite_ —’

‘Why not? I can be the first evil Disney princess!’

‘Even I know that’s not a real thing.’)

Since _Aquila_ ended, they’ve seen each other about an average of two or three times a year. Sometimes they even manage to hang out with Kelley who only gets more manic with age. Kelley and Tobin relish swapping crazy stories, Tobin on jumping from moving vehicles and grumbling about sexism in Hollywood (‘you’re just mad because they made you do those ridiculous stunts in heels’); Kelley on rabid fans sneaking onto the set of her new show and the weirdest article of clothing she’s been asked to sign (some fan’s brother’s lucky sock). For the most part, Alex sits back and soaks in their excitement.

But Tobin inevitably has another project lined up—the bigger the adventure, the better. And so the visits are rarely long enough, but Alex doesn’t mind as much as she thought she would. Tobin likes to leave with a small smile and a kiss to Alex’s cheek, and Alex remembers that she has something and someone to look forward to.

Besides, Alex generally has a packed schedule that keeps her busy, and honestly, she wouldn’t have it any other way. Following Abby’s advice, she doesn’t let her life revolve solely around work; she has a standing lunch date with Sydney once a week at local cafes, a different one each week so that the paps don’t catch on to Sydney’s routine. Additionally, since her parents and Jeri don’t live too far out, she occasionally drives out to see them and catch up.

That’s not to say that Alex doesn’t miss Tobin when they’re apart, lost in the flurry of day-to-day life. She does, more than she knows how to put into words. The yearning is only exacerbated by the fact that Tobin has never been good at keeping in touch. (Perhaps that’s not wholly fair, as she does usually remember to call Alex at least once a week to chat.)

But still, on some nights like this one, the loneliness can get to Alex, keeping her up.

It’s well past five in the morning when she finally does fall asleep, one arm flung out towards what would be Tobin’s side of the bed.

 

///

 

Even though Tobin hasn’t acted in a few years, she gets offered a blockbuster action role that she knows she can’t turn down. Filming takes place in New Zealand and involves a lot of physically demanding work. She spends a good few months prior in training for the role, working with multiple trainers and instructors.

Her big name co-stars take a shining to her right away, awed by all the stunts they’ve seen her do. They’re all guys, typical guys for the most part, but Tobin’s spent a lot of her life around men like them. At the end of every week the guys play a few rounds of poker and invite her to join in. Cards aren’t Tobin’s thing, but she never passes up on free beer.

Their conversations have mostly revolved around shop talk and sports, but tonight one of the guys, Kenny, seems to have a sudden interest in Tobin’s personal life. “Got a boyfriend, Tobin?”

“Nah,” Tobin drawls, unprepared but amused nonetheless.

To her right, Jack snorts. “You too man for anyone?”

Tobin sorts the cards in her hand and says, “Wouldn’t wanna be with anyone that insecure anyway.”

Kenny and Jack laugh good naturedly, and Tobin cracks a grin.

“So you got a girlfriend then?” Matt, her jiu jitsu trainer, asks, eyeing her knowingly.

“Yeah,” Tobin says before she really thinks it through.

Jack raises an eyebrow and leans forward to toss a few chips in. “You hiding her from us?”

Tobin shrugs.

“Don’t tell me you’re the girl in the relationship,” Kenny says with a wink.

Tobin’s never really thought of anyone as her girlfriend, but when Matt asked, Tobin had thought of Alex and the _yeah_ slipped out. Maybe it’s because Tobin’s out of her comfort zone, but in this moment, she irrationally wants to be someone who carries photos of their girl in their wallet or something dumb like that.

Setting her hand down, Tobin retrieves her phone from her pocket and goes through a few photos, looking for the one she has in mind.

“We’re both the girl,” Tobin says, tilting her screen towards the guys. “Kind of the point.”

Jack whistles once, low and appreciative.

Kenny’s jaw drops. “Damn, I’d be the girl in the relationship for her too.”

The picture is from the previous summer, overlooking the pier. The sun was low, streaking the sky orange and pink, and Alex had closed her eyes to enjoy the breeze. Tobin snapped the picture as Alex turned to her, a free smile spreading across her lips.

With the photo of Alex’s happy face cradled in her hands and the envy of her friends surrounding her, Tobin feels a pang of longing.

“How’d you land her?” Matt jokes. “Way outta your league, dude.”

Tobin smirks, oddly proud of herself, and flips him off. “Yeah, yeah.”

They throw in the towel around 11, and Tobin has won exactly zero hands. She trudges back to her hotel room, phone open to Alex’s number. It’s like 3AM for Alex, so Tobin doesn’t call.

6,000 miles between them and Tobin is crazy restless. She fights the impulse to buy plane tickets to L.A. even though they’ve got filming tomorrow.

Her thumb traces Alex’s smile on the screen.

Tobin loves letting life take her where it will, but sometimes—not often but sometimes—she just wants to be swept back into Alex’s arms.

 

* * *

 

_October 2nd, 2013 (Tobin: 25, Alex: 24)_

Alex doesn’t consider it stalking per se, but from time to time she’s prone to scrolling through the photos of Tobin on Twitter. In her defense, Tobin never sends photos, and sometimes a girl likes seeing her best friend’s face. But today the top photo features Tobin wearing a cast boot while conversing with her coworker and their mutual friend, Meghan, on set. At first, Alex passes it off as a costuming prop, but as photo after photo taken by fans shows Tobin hobbling around on crutches…

Alex picks up her phone and calls Meghan.

“ _Kling here.”_

“Hey, it’s Alex.”

“ _Alex! We were just talking—yeah, it's your Alex.”_

In the background Alex can hear someone swear. She taps her nails on the kitchen counter.

“ _So what's up, Al, Alex, Alexandra?”_

“Put Tobin on,” Alex says, no nonsense.

“ _Tobin? Well, she… is running down… a hill?”_ There is a bit of a commotion before Alex can discern what Meghan is saying. “ _You suck at charades, it's not my fault!”_

“Still here,” Alex says. “Still can hear Tobin in the background.”

“ _I refuse to be the buffer in your marital issues, talk to her!”_

The sound of the phone being transferred to another set of hands grates on Alex’s ears.

“ _Hey, Alex. Miss you tons,"_ Tobin says breezily. “ _Did you know Beijing has the coolest aquarium?”_ Tobin is nonchalant, as if that’s even remotely a good enough distraction.

“What did you do to your foot?”

“ _Funny story_ ,” Tobin starts.

“I’m sure I’ll find it hilarious,” Alex says, deadpan.

“ _Well, I had to run up this boulder and halfway up I slipped—"_

“Slipped.”

“ _Yeah. I landed a little awkwardly so Kling said I should get it checked out. It’s just a minor fracture. The doctor said it’ll heal fine._ ”

Alex sighs. “How long are you supposed to be off your feet?”

“ _Uh, like maybe a few weeks, probably less._ ”

“I know you’re low balling it. Tell me the exact amount of time.”

“ _... six to eight weeks._ ”

“Okay. Pack your bags and buy a ticket for L.A.,” Alex says sternly.

“ _Honestly, it’s not too bad—_ ”

“I’m sorry, did you think that was a suggestion? Because it wasn’t. If you’re not at my front door by the end of the week, you won’t have to worry about your foot anymore because I will personally kill you.”

The words sink in, and Tobin draws in a sharp inhale. Finally, she says, “ _I’ll be there._ ”

“Good.”

“ _Alex?_ ”

“What?”

“ _Sorry I made you worry._ ”

 

///

 

Tobin has a three hour layover at Narita International Airport, which she would usually spend wandering around the stores, looking for small gifts for friends. This time around though, with her cast boot and an airline worker pushing her everywhere in a wheelchair, Tobin decides to just sit around at her gate. As the boarding time draws closer, the gate gets more and more crowded. A middle-aged woman with long blonde hair and a pale complexion takes the seat near to Tobin.

After a few seconds she turns to Tobin and asks, “So how’d you hurt your foot?”

“Being stupid,” Tobin says.

“You play sports? My daughter loves hockey, she’s always breaking something or other.”

“Worse,” Tobin says with a polite smile. “I do stunts.”

“Your parents must hate that.” The woman laughs.

“Yeah, but I think they’re coming around.”

“So you’re heading to Los Angeles, is that home?”

Home is a funny word for Tobin. She doesn’t own any property nor does she stay anywhere long enough to count as a permanent residence. Regular mail is diverted to either her parents’ or sister’s house. Boxes of her belongings are scattered, some with family, some with friends. When she was younger, she might have been tempted to call New Jersey home, but her parents have long since moved down to Florida, a state that Tobin has no fondness for.

But none of this introspection is what the woman is interested in. Tobin certainly spends enough time going back to L.A., so it doesn’t feel like a lie when she answers in the affirmative. The stranger prattles on and on about her own life (Tobin seems to regularly attract these kind of people at airports and bus stops), and Tobin pretends to listen.

Instead she thinks more on the concept of home. Tobin loves her parents but they haven’t been what she considers home for awhile now. Her siblings are scattered all around the U.S., not always in movement but certainly not static. In a way L.A. is home to Tobin; during her _Aquila_ days, she’d spent every July and August in Diamond Bar with Alex’s family since her visit during her first Comic-Con, and now she heads back there to see Alex every few months.

Idly, Tobin remembers that homesickness feels a lot like how missing Alex feels.

 

///

 

Tobin dutifully arrives at Alex’s front doorstep three days after the call. Though Alex has a few fairly hectic weeks ahead of her, she constantly checks in with Tobin through texts and calls. It’s not that she doesn’t trust Tobin to take care of herself (well, it’s a little that), but Alex feels odd knowing that Tobin’s confined to her place.

After her long days recording the same lines a thousand times in slightly different accents, Alex returns home to discover Tobin sprawled in various locations around the apartment (on the bed one day, then the sofa the next, and so on). At the end of the working week, Tobin sometimes even tags along during Alex’s hangout after work. Her coworkers take a shining to Tobin immediately, drawn in by her natural charisma and good humor. And Tobin is here, is letting Alex take care of her, is participating in Alex’s life, and that should be enough.

It’s not.

Tobin grumbles that Alex fusses too much, and Alex suspects that Tobin only pretends to be taking it easy when she’s around. Perpetually restless, Tobin continues to channel her energy into activities that border on what Alex deems as acceptable. And Alex can’t help but think that this is the longest that Tobin’s stuck around. Maybe she’s slightly resentful too that it’s Tobin’s injury and not Alex that’s keeping Tobin temporarily anchored.

Alex has considered straight up asking Tobin to stick around a few times, and that thought lingers in the forefront of her mind now. But it’s a selfish thing to demand, for Tobin to compromise who she is, what she does, and how she lives. How can Alex ask for such a concession, such an immense sacrifice?

Resentment and shame never mix well, but Alex can’t control the way they’ve grown, pent up inside.

 

///

 

It boils over one afternoon when Alex grabs Tobin’s foot by the boot and lifts it onto the ottoman.

“Elevation is important.”

“Al, I’m fine,” Tobin protests.

“A metatarsal fracture isn’t the exact definition of fine.”

“It’s a minor injury. It’ll heal.” It comes off a bit snappy, and Tobin has no excuse except that she’s been feeling like a caged predator at the zoo. She has so rarely been out of action for any longer than a few days at a time; four weeks is an eternity by her calculation.

“This time it’s a minor fracture. What about next time?” Alex crosses her arms.

“This is why I didn’t want to tell you,” Tobin mumbles.

It’s exactly the wrong thing to say, and she knows it the moment the words leave her mouth.

“Because I care about you? Because I care about your wellbeing?”

“Because I didn’t want you to worry about nothing.”

A flash of hurt strikes down Alex’s features. “And by not telling me, you thought that would make me worry less? Did you honestly think that?”

“I can’t win with you, Alex. What do you want me to say?”

Tobin just wants this conversation to be over with, but she also knows Alex won’t let this go.

“I want you to tell me what you’re thinking. I don’t want you regurgitating what you think I want to hear,” Alex says.

Frustrated, Tobin lashes out. “I’m thinking that I shouldn’t have come back to L.A. because I knew this would happen.”

Alex’s expression is stone cold and her tone icy as she asks, “Is that why you keep leaving, Tobin? Because you don’t want to have difficult conversations?”

The question stings, like a slap to the face. Maybe it’s hitting a little too close to home.

“You’re twisting everything I say.”

“How else am I supposed to interpret your words? You only want to be with me when it’s easy, and when I care too much, you decide it’s time to go.”

“Alex!”

“No, I don’t want to hear your answer. You’re right, maybe you shouldn’t have come. We’re obviously not ready for this.”

Alex storms out and slams the door behind her, leaving the frames hanging in the hall rattling. Tobin stumbles after her, hindered by her injured foot, and falls heavily to one knee. Swearing, she slams her fist against the couch cushions twice in quick succession.

Tobin is sick to her stomach with every emotion she can think of. Usually, she’d go surfing or swimming to work off the negative energy, but her inability to do so only adds to her bad mood. Instead, she shuffles onto the balcony and collapses into the cushioned lawn chair. Drained from the argument, Tobin lies there, sunlight burning punishingly into every inch of exposed skin until she nods off.

When Tobin wakes, the sun has long set and a slight breeze musses her hair. She slips back inside the apartment, scrunching her nose as she feels the skin peeling already. The door to the bedroom is mostly shut, indicating that Alex has returned. Clutching the wall, Tobin pushes the door ajar and spots the shape of Alex’s body curled up under the covers.

“You still up?”

After a long pause, Alex answers, reticent and muffled. “Yeah.”

“Can we talk?”

“What is there to say?”

Despite Alex’s hostility, Tobin forges on ahead. “I didn’t mean what I said earlier. I’m glad I’m here with you. I’m grateful that you’re taking care of me.”

Alex shifts, turning towards Tobin, but the room is too dark for Tobin to read Alex’s expression.

“I’m glad you’re here too,” Alex whispers to Tobin’s immediate relief.

“I don’t leave because you care too much. It’s why I keep coming back,” Tobin says and swallows hard.

“I know.”

“Okay, well.” Tobin hesitates. “That’s all.”

She turns to leave, chest heavy. And she’d never really considered it before, but maybe this time her apology won’t be enough. (Maybe Alex has finally realized that Tobin is not enough.)

Then quietly, Alex says, “Come to bed, Tobin.”

Alex’s forgiveness hurts rather than heals.

Only because Tobin knows she doesn’t deserve it.

 

///

 

Fortunately, the rest of Tobin’s stay isn’t quite as eventful. It does, however, become a weird parody of domesticity: Tobin sometimes includes Alex’s load with hers when she does laundry, and Alex finds herself folding their clothes when it starts bothering her that Tobin isn’t fazed by wrinkled shirts; for dinner, Tobin orders food or makes simple dishes that are consistently hot and ready upon Alex’s return; after eating, they curl up on the couch and watch reruns of _Friends_ or, on Thursdays, the latest episode of _Parks and Recreation_.

Alex comes home early one day and finds Tobin stirring a pan on top of the stove, hair in a loose bun, the sleeves of her shirt pulled up and jersey shorts hiked up. There’s an apron that Alex is pretty sure she doesn’t own tied improperly (around Tobin’s neck but not at the waist), so it takes a second to follow Tobin’s movement as she turns to face Alex— _HOT STUFF COMING THROUGH_ emblazoned across the chest area. (Yeah, Alex is pretty sure it’s not hers.)

“Welcome home, honey,” Tobin drawls, a lazy grin stretching on her face.

Alex rolls her eyes but doesn’t try to stop the tug of her lips. Instead, she busies herself, shrugging off her jacket and kicking off her shoes before she joins Tobin in the kitchen. They work around each other seamlessly, a far cry from the last time (and only other time) they attempted to prepare a meal together—the pancake debacle of 2005 that had Dawn, their set manager, banning them from the set when they weren’t filming (Tobin knew it had a working kitchen, but she didn’t anticipate the working smoke alarms).

It works much better this time around, Tobin finishing the stir fry and checking on the rice while Alex grabs two bottles of Lagunitas IPA from the fridge, having spied the pretty much empty bottle right by the stove. She hands one to Tobin wordlessly and sets her own on the counter before returning to the fridge, rummaging for some spinach and arugula to toss a light salad that she knows Tobin wouldn’t have thought to make. Setting the table is a joint effort too, with Tobin being relegated to utensils duty after the very pointed look sent her way when she tries to tiptoe on her good leg to reach the plates in the top cabinet.

It’s then that it hits Alex again, just how pretty fucking domestic this all is, and she isn’t sure what to make of it. If she were an imaginative woman, she might’ve once envisioned this as their future together, albeit without Tobin’s injury.

But Alex finds that she wants no part in the illusion. It’s not who she and Tobin are. So when Tobin extends her hands across the table, palms up, Alex hesitates to take them. It had become a thing of theirs since the first night of Tobin’s stay when she’d asked for permission to say grace for their table. But today, Alex finds that it’s all too much, this routine that won’t last. She needs to reel herself in, needs some sort of distance physically, maybe even emotionally, no matter how small.

“I uh,” Alex starts and stops, clearing her throat awkwardly. “I think we should pray on our own this time.”

“Oh,” Tobin says, “okay.”

And Alex tries, tries not to notice the wounded expression that flashes on Tobin’s face as she retracts her hand quickly. Tries not to compare it to the cheeky grin from that night, because ‘we’re supposed to hold hands, Al, or it won’t work.’

(And Alex, well, Alex had known it’s not exactly required, especially when it’s just the two of them. She didn’t mind that it wasn’t, liked it that way)

Tobin closes her eyes, brows furrowed in concentration. Alex watches her mouth move, forming silent words—Alex thinks she might have seen her own name (just wishful thinking, probably), and a part of her aches to know if Tobin prays differently when she’s not praying out loud. Then Tobin’s eyes are open again, and she’s smiling widely as she picks up her fork to start eating.

Alex doesn’t pray. It’s not really her thing, and she doesn’t know what she’d say if she wasn’t praying out loud anyway.

She offers Tobin a small smile back and digs into her own meal.

 

* * *

 

_January 10th, 2015 (Tobin: 26, Alex: 25)_

“... as your lawfully wedded wife?”

“I do,” Dom says, his smile bursting with such sheer joy.

“You may now kiss the bride,” the officiant says.

“Finally,” Sydney says and winks saucily.

Dom wraps an arm around Sydney’s waist and dips her exaggeratedly before placing a picture perfect kiss on her lips. Dom in his smart purple suit and Sydney in traditional lacy white look like the happiest couple (and so they should on their wedding day, Alex supposes), faces stuck in permanent grins. Their joy is all encompassing and infectious, and Alex can only match their expressions.

“Ladies and gentlemen, I am honored to present to you for the first time, Mr. and Mrs. Dom Dwyer!”

Everyone stands, and Alex pulls at Tobin’s arm to remind her to follow suit. Alex cheers loudly, possibly louder than anyone around them, and Tobin claps lazily. On the other side of Tobin, Kelley brings her thumb and forefinger to her lips, whistling at the newlyweds.

“Get a room!” Abby hollers, cupping her hands around her mouth.

Sydney blows a kiss towards Abby for that remark.

 

///

 

Tobin sees the envy in Alex’s eyes as Sydney and Dom smush cake into each other’s faces. It appears again as Alex’s gaze sweeps over the venue, lingering slightly at the sight of Heather leaning comfortably against her husband Dave, his blazer resting around her shoulders, before it settles on a giggling Julie who all but drags her boyfriend Zach over to the dance floor before she is engulfed by his bigger frame. It’s a muted envy devoid of any malice, more like sorrow than anything. Tobin looks at her own cardigan, draped over the back of her seat, and bites her lip, a question hovering in her mind uncertainly.

_Hey Al, do you wanna dance?_

But she hesitates, and the next thing she knows, a more-than-slightly-inebriated Kelley who appears to have taken advantage of the open bar is ambling over with two flutes of champagne, snorting at their expectant hands.

“Get your own,” Kelley says, smirking at Tobin as she downs one of the flutes, “and quit sitting around doin’ nothing.” She downs the other and deposits both of them on the table behind them.

“Maybe I will,” Tobin says with a flash of irritation she decides to blame on being way too sober.

“Right,” Kelley drawls, rolling her eyes comically before turning to Alex. “C’mon,” she urges, tugging on Alex’s hand, “Abby’s looking for you. Lake Scene reunion pic.” Then Alex is being dragged over to the makeshift photo booth a few of their former cast mates are waiting in line for.

Tobin watches them go. Her cardigan remains on her seat, and her question remains firmly lodged in her throat.

_Hey Al, do you wanna dance?_

She watches as Abby hoists Alex up on her back, and Alex lets out an unrestrained laugh, looking happier than Tobin’s seen her look since they were seated.

In that moment Tobin knows there’s too much that she can’t give Alex.

 

///

 

Alex catches the bouquet.

It’s not surprising. Alex is used to winning, her infamous competitiveness well-known on set and one of her best (and worst) traits. Despite Sam’s height advantage and Kelley’s attempt to body check the person next to her, Alex positions herself perfectly. Perfectly, meaning Sydney surveyed the horde of eager single ladies until she found Alex, winking in her direction before turning around.

Trophy in hand, she cranes her neck, eyes searching amidst the whistles and the cheering. She finds Tobin tucked in the corner, an easy smile on her face as the caterer next to her giggles at something Tobin must have said, and something heavy settles in the pit of her stomach.

“Bathroom,” she says, turning to Kelley, who nods and leads her out of the fray.

On her way out, she tosses the bouquet to a surprised Zach, tilting her head in Julie’s direction not-so-subtly. It’s a symbol for something she knows she has no need for, so it should at least serve some other couple well.

 

///

 

“Here,” Kelley says later, setting two shots of whiskey next to Tobin before taking the empty seat next to her. “They’re both yours this time. Pretty sure you _still_ haven’t gotten off your ass to get that drink.”

A little more than ten feet away, a small group gathers in a mini dance circle—or semicircle, really—belting out the lyrics to an upbeat remix of some Ed Sheeran song, arms slung over each other. One of the groomsmen breaks from the group and shimmies over to Alex, performing a ridiculous dance move with his hips that has Alex smiling in amusement.

Wordlessly, Tobin reaches for the shot glasses.

 

///

 

After the reception, Tobin and Alex head back to Alex’s hotel room to waste an hour or two before Tobin has to catch a flight to Brazil. Alex had intended this to be a nice amount of downtime for them to unwind and talk or nap or just to hold one another. But the wedding, which was supposedly a celebratory event, put Alex in a heavy mood. It reminded Alex of all the things she’s tried to ignore for years.

In the beginning of their relationship, Tobin and Alex had both been gun shy, dancing around their feelings and desires. They’d wanted similar things back then: an exploration of nascent romance, something simple yet compelling. And now, five years after their trip to Spain, Alex thinks they’ve diverged somewhere along the way.

It’s not the constant physical distance in between them that makes things difficult. That, Alex can at least deal with. No, the hardest thing is when Tobin gets that look in her eye, the one that means it’s time for her to bolt. Alex occasionally has trouble reading Tobin’s emotions correctly, but she can always, always spot that look from a mile away (she’s certainly seen it enough times).

Alex can’t compete with that fleeing instinct, and now, after a day surrounded by the contentment of all those other couples, she finds that she doesn’t want to anymore either.

As Tobin takes off her shoes, Alex stands by the window, arms crossed and waiting. With an exhausted exhale, Tobin plops down into the desk chair nearby, spinning to face Alex.

“Everything okay?”

In the back of her mind, Alex wonders if Tobin knew something was wrong before she did. For all of Tobin’s perceptiveness though, they’re here anyway. Eyes searching Tobin’s, Alex stares at her, steadfast. If there was ever a time for honesty, it’s now.

“Not really,” Alex says.

Tobin’s cheek twitches a little, the only indication that she’s been affected by Alex’s words. “You wanna talk about it?”

“Not really,” Alex repeats. “But we should.”

That look, that goddamn look, returns in an instant to Tobin. And Alex hates it, but her immediate reaction is a needling guilt followed quickly by icy bitterness.

“Whatever it is we’ve been doing,” Alex says, “I can’t do it anymore.”

It should be a relief to verbalize it, but it tastes harsh with finality.

Tobin clenches her jaw visibly but says nothing. The ticking of the analog clock on the desk sounds loudly in their silence.

“Don’t you have anything to say?” Alex asks after a long pause.

Though Tobin’s eyes are locked on Alex’s, Tobin’s mouth twists, as if forgetting her words. Tobin fidgets, wringing her hands shakily.

“Don’t you want to know why? Or do you just not care? Feel free to jump in anytime now,” Alex bites out. The longer Tobin remains quiet, the angrier Alex becomes. It builds low in her stomach, filling her chest with heat and pressure. Spilling over, she grabs the arms of the chair, pulling Tobin closer. She tilts her head down as she pleads, “Say something.”

Tobin flicks her tongue out to wet her lips. “I do care.”

And Alex wishes that reassurance alone could mend things.

“Not enough to stay,” Alex argues, throat aching and tight. “Not enough for you to stop running away.”

“I’m not the person you need,” Tobin says, expression even like she’s got tranquility flowing through her fucking veins. “I think we knew that, deep down, even in the beginning.”

The implication that this was doomed from the start, that they both should’ve known it, is too much for Alex. Her frustration and heartbreak and hurt mix tumultuously. Alex pushes it all down and forces herself to let go of the chair, backing off.

Determinedly looking away from Tobin, she says, “Go, then. I can tell you’re dying to.”

Tobin collects her bag, phone, and shoes, glancing at Alex for one last time before heading to the exit.

“For whatever it’s worth,” Tobin says slowly, in a whisper just loud enough for Alex to hear, “I always wanted to be that person.”

Then the door shuts with a gentle click, and Alex is alone. She crawls into bed numbly, laying on her side, one hand tucked under the pillow. She’s not sure how long she stares blankly at the blinking numbers on the digital clock atop the nightstand before the first sob bubbles from her throat. She stubbornly fights it at first, willing back tears and holding her breath, but then she’s crying and crying, body heaving with every sob, breaths coming out in shallow gasps.

It does nothing to dispel the tightness in her chest, and all of a sudden her dress is tight, too tight. She reaches back and tugs at the zipper, doesn’t wait for it to make its full descent before she claws it off her shoulders, letting the top bunch around her waist. And then she feels exposed, too exposed, so she grabs the nearest pillow, hugging it tightly in her chest. She cries until she tires herself out. But even then, sleep doesn’t come easily.

 

///

 

In the airport bathroom, Tobin changes into a thick hoodie and jeans. Throughout the boarding process, everything is a blur, like she’s watching it happen to someone else. When she’s sat in her seat, she pulls her hood down over her eyes and finally lets herself absorb what’s happened.

Even though she knew it would end like this, it still hurts like hell. Tobin can’t remember a time when she was without Alex’s support; in all her memories, Alex is there, unwavering in loyalty and care. Now, Tobin doesn’t know if she’s imagining it, but the world feels a lot bigger, a lot colder.

(And if Tobin, curled up against the window, cries, she only has herself to blame.)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you to everyone who left kudos and comments! Taken a down turn but hopefully this was still a good read.
> 
> Chapter 3, which will be the last one, should be up in about a week. Your patience is appreciated~


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Can you believe it's only been a singular week since we last updated? Time sure flies when you lie~
> 
> Monumental amounts of thanks to [red_thread](http://archiveofourown.org/users/red_thread) and [skysplits](http://archiveofourown.org/users/skysplits) for your feedback and patience. Truly wouldn't have been possible without your help.
> 
> Enjoy!

_It's really hard_  
_I can’t cry in your arms_  
_‘Cause you’re not here_  
_It’s not your fault_  
_And if it was I wouldn’t care_

 

* * *

 

_March 10th, 2015 (Tobin: 26, Alex: 25)_

Tobin’s little brother Jeffrey used to have a _Lord of the Rings_ poster up above his bed with the famous line: _Not all those who wander are lost_. Tobin loved the sentiment, strongly related to it, lived it. The word ‘wander’ generally has a connotation of aimlessness but she believes it’s more about being guided by the universe.

But in the two months since Alex broke things off, Tobin does find herself directionless. One week spent in Honduras, the next in Portugal—she never gets close to feeling half as peaceful as she ever was in Los Angeles by Alex’s side. Even so, stopping seems like the worse option. Static, Tobin would only dwell on her mistakes. So she keeps moving instead.

Tobin strikes up something uncomplicated and diverting with a French actress named Laure. Neither is under any delusions about where this is going (or not going), and when Laure moves on to a Brazilian model, they part with an amicable kiss and a half-smile.

For the first time, Tobin’s work doesn’t feel fulfilling, so she decides to go on a hiatus until her mind is back in the right place. She heads to Hawaii for a few months, hoping to surf her troubles away.

It doesn’t work. Not in Kauai, where she finds a temporary housemate and new surfing buddy in Kelley’s friend Brianna, or in Oahu, where Mana, an old surfing buddy and self-proclaimed new wingman, puts her up in the guest room in her family home.

It’s not that Tobin doesn’t have a great time. She wakes up early to catch the best waves with her friends. Brianna shows Tobin her favorite trails to hike and takes her to swim by the most breathtaking waterfalls. Mana introduces Tobin to scuba diving and a bunch of other local activities during the day (she even almost succeeds— _almost—_ in convincing Tobin to partake in a hula dance lesson one day), and drags her to experience Honolulu’s gay scene at night. Mana’s mom whips up a variety of local dishes that has Tobin feeling like she’s eaten more calories than she’s burned despite her very active vacation.

Tobin soaks up every last ray of sunlight with a deep appreciation for the sights and activities and makes about a dozen new friends in both locals and tourists. But even with all the hustle and bustle, a hollowness sits in her chest.

(Tobin has a great time. And the hollowness in her chest, well, she learns to embrace it anyway.)

 

///

 

Life goes on. That enduring truth which seemed harsh at first becomes comforting and reliable with time.

Life goes on, and Alex throws herself into work: odd voice acting jobs here and there, even gets back into live-action television as a guest star on Sydney’s current show.

Life goes on, and Alex misses Tobin anyway. Some days are harder than others, full of nostalgia and remorse, but she doesn’t let herself falter.

Life goes on, and when James—from the local gym—asks her out two months after Tobin, Alex hears herself accept and is surprised that she doesn’t regret it.

(Neither of them are looking for anything serious. “Ex-boyfriend woes,” James explains. “Ex-something woes,” Alex says. They laugh, and that’s what makes them work.)

 

///

 

Tobin books a two-episode gig on a long-running cop show as _Officer #2_ . Her first speaking role since _Aquila_ comes with exactly one line (a grand total of seven words), but somehow, two episodes turn into five—with an option for more on an as-needed basis—and _Officer #2_ becomes _Officer Casey_ becomes _Officer Cameron Casey_ who actually has an off-duty scene in plainclothes. Tobin suspects it has more to do with logistics and the easy rapport she strikes up with the cast and crew than the quality of her performance, but she sticks around, enjoying the nice weather that Vancouver offers that time of the year and the spaces in her schedule that allows her to fit in other guest starring roles on other shows filming nearby.

She strikes up another casual relationship, this time with Tabea, a German actress who was brought on as a regular last season as _Officer Hannah Fischer_ . This one ends a bit messier, with Tobin’s travel hairdryer narrowly missing her head by an inch after a somewhat panicked and very poorly worded version of _it’s not you, it’s me_.

It’s not even that she misunderstands the suggestion, that she thinks she’s being asked to move in _together_. There’s a vacancy at Tabea’s apartment after one of her roommates, a fellow cast member, was killed off in the mid-season finale. It’s a decently-sized three-bedroom apartment in a decent location with more-than-decent roommates to help split the cost. It makes sense, really. But even with the month-to-month lease option, Tobin was perfectly content to continue to extend her stay at her hotel week by week, in knowing that her ship was merely docked, not moored, so to speak.

For lack of better words, Tobin freaks out. (And really, there are no better words to describe it.) And a freaked out Tobin does as a freaked out Tobin does. She bails.

Tobin is off again roughly a week later, headphones over her ears and travel pillow snug around her neck, hoping to catch a few hours of sleep as the plane begins its steady ascent to a cruising altitude. But she finds no respite, dogged by the memory of Tabea’s voice, hurt and angry.

(“Just fuck off,” she had said, “it’s what you do best.”)

And Tobin, Tobin tries not to think about how the words sounded like echoes of another conversation she’d had.

(‘Not enough to stay. Not enough for you to stop running away.’)

Tabea is nothing like Alex; still, something about the ordeal reminds her of Alex anyway, if only for the fact that she somehow managed to screw up again. In pretty much the same way.

Maybe it’s better that it doesn’t drag on for longer this time around.

Or maybe it’s worse, because clearly the pain from the first time hadn’t been enough for her to learn her lesson.

It’s not worse, Lauren tells her, but it’s certainly not better.

(“I mean, Jesus, Tobs, at least keep it in your pants long enough to know you’re on the same page.")

And Lauren’s _almost_ always right. She has a better track record than Tobin with making decent life decisions at least—which isn’t a hard feat these days, considering even Kelley’s probably got her beat on that.

So, Tobin listens for once and decides that it’s time for a break from relationships altogether.

 

* * *

 

_June 29th, 2015 (Tobin: 27, Alex: 25)_

John F. Kennedy International Airport is bustling with activity, but Tobin navigates the crowds with the ease of a well-traveled professional. Tobin spots Kelley just outside the baggage claim with a pair of large-framed sunglasses and a Mets cap that she would never be caught dead in if she weren’t trying so hard to remain incognito.

Kelley flags her down. “Tobs!”

“Kelley.” Tobin gives her a quick one-armed hug and is not-so-secretly pleased to see her.

Kelley shushes her. “I’m hiding.”

“Come on, loads of people are named Kelley,” Tobin drawls as they head to the sliding doors.

“But how many of them are as cute and famous as me?”

“And how many of them do you think have also released a pop single embarrassingly titled _Gurlz_?”

“I will have you know that it got to number 8 on the pop charts in Japan,” Kelley says.

“Oh that makes all the difference,” Tobin shoots back sarcastically.

Parked out on the curb waiting for them rather patiently is Allie in a shiny rented blue Camry. Before Tobin can react, Kelley calls shotgun and slips into the front seat. Tobin shrugs and tosses her bag in the back seat, sliding in after it.

“Finally done being a surfer bum?” Allie asks as Tobin settles in. Cautiously, she pulls out into the lane and heads back downtown.

“Thought I’d drop in on you guys and my sister,” Tobin says. Briefly, she considers objecting to the term _surfer bum_ but that’d be a losing battle.

“So you and Alex are really done, huh?” Allie’s eyes dart to the rearview mirror to observe Tobin’s reaction. Allie doesn’t hesitate or wheedle; she’s a straight shooter. And so Tobin doesn’t begrudge Allie’s curiosity. It’s not like she and Alex did a press release about the situation.

Tobin shrugs like hearing Alex’s name doesn’t hurt. “Guess so.”

Allie and Kelley exchange a loaded glance with one another not so subtly. It has Tobin feeling anxious, like they know she was at fault and that she was the one who ruined things and—

“What?” Tobin asks.

“You should tell her,” Kelley says to Allie.

“You’ve known her longer.”

“You’re better at breaking bad news.”

“Bad news?” Tobin asks, heart dropping, anxiety morphing into worry. She leans forward, one forearm pressed against the back of Kelley’s headrest. “Is Alex okay?”

“She’s fine,” Allie says.

“But?” Tobin prompts.

“She’s seeing someone,” Kelley says and bites her lip. “It’s getting pretty serious apparently.”

“Oh.”

Tobin curls one hand into a fist, nails digging bluntly into her palm.

“What happened between you two anyway?” Allie turns and flashes her a stern look.

“Nothing,” Tobin says quickly. “Our lives were just too different.”

“That’s a shit reason.”

Tobin grits her teeth, suddenly overwhelmed by self-loathing and disappointment. Allie’s right, of course, but there’s nothing Tobin can do now to change that. The fact that Alex has moved on just means that she’s definitively finished with Tobin. It’s what Alex deserves.

(The knowledge sits heavily inside of Tobin, threatening to claw its way out. She holds it in instead, lets it root itself inside her gut and make itself at home.

It’s what Tobin deserves too, anyway.)

“Yeah,” Tobin says eventually. Kelley reaches out to place a comforting hand on Tobin’s knee, squeezing gently. Her sympathy is a little too close to pity for Tobin’s liking, so Tobin musters up a smile. “It’s fine. It was for the best.”

Allie looks as unconvinced as Tobin feels.

 

///

 

Besides a few teenage experimentations, Alex had really only ever been with Tobin. No one else made her feel as safe, as comfortable. As a result, she finds herself comparing her relationship with James to the singular other experience she has.

But James and Tobin are different people, for better or worse.

Tobin is usually carefree, forever ready with a joke and a laugh. James is more grounded and has meticulous plans for almost everything. Tobin bursts at every edge with affection and confidence, brightening the lives of everyone she meets. James is unfailing in focus and devotion to whatever he puts his mind to, whether in work, hobbies, or love.

They’re simply different people. But sometimes James will laugh uproariously, and Alex will remember Tobin’s wide smile. The reminder of Tobin always slices deep, so Alex has learned to sequester those memories in the back of her mind instead.

And if Alex ever thinks she might not be over Tobin, James understands and forgives her doubt.

 

* * *

 

_December 1st, 2015 (Tobin: 27, Alex: 26)_

When Tobin shows up randomly on a Tuesday evening, buzzing into Alex’s apartment that she now shares with James, Alex is more than taken aback. After her initial shock, Alex reasons that she really shouldn’t be surprised. Of course Tobin would traipse back into her life like nothing had ever happened. Tobin was probably just in the neighborhood, probably will leave as quickly as she breezes in.

“My ex is here,” Alex tells James who pauses midway through stirring the pot of spaghetti. “She’s on her way up.”

“Should I hide?” James might be joking, but Alex knows if she said yes, he would dutifully do so.

“No. It’ll be fine,” Alex says, though her tight smile seems to project otherwise.

When Alex opens the door, Tobin leans against the frame, dressed in ripped black jeans and a loose tee, red and white headphones slung around her neck. She looks good, Alex grudgingly acknowledges.

“Hey,” Tobin says simply.

For some reason, Alex’s heart is beating a mile a minute. She stares for a moment, overwhelmed, before responding, “Hey.”

“Hi,” James says, entering into Tobin’s view, one hand resting gently on the small of Alex’s back.

Normally his touch comforts Alex, but in this instance it feels all wrong. Tobin is a piece of the past and James is the present, and Alex is having trouble fitting her mind around the fact that they’re in this same space and time.

“I’m Tobin.” Tobin offers a hand to James. “Alex and I were on a show together when we were kids.”

That’s an extreme oversimplification of their past, but, still a little speechless, Alex lets it slide.

“James.” He shakes her hand politely and says, “I know who you are actually. Big fan of the stuff you’ve been in.”

“Thanks, man,” Tobin says with a sincere quirk of her lips.

“We’re just about to have dinner, why don’t you join us?” James asks, gesturing with one arm for her to enter.

Of course he would offer. Alex fiddles with the collar of her shirt, unsure of what to say.

“I already ate, but thanks for the offer,” Tobin says, rubbing the back of her head sheepishly. “I actually just came by to see Alex.”

“Don’t mind me then.” James adjusts his plain blue apron and smiles. “I’ll just go back to our pasta. It was nice meeting you, Tobin.”

“You too.”

Tobin’s eyes switch from his retreating back to Alex’s face, expression tentative like she’s not sure what will happen next. Alex gets the feeling that if she shut the door right this moment, Tobin would get the message loud and clear.

(Denying Tobin has never been Alex’s strong suit.)

Her curiosity overpowers her reluctance. Alex pushes the door open farther and says, “We can talk on the balcony.”

 

///

 

A few months back, Kelley and Tobin had gotten drunk enough for Kelley to accidentally show Tobin a photo of Alex with her boyfriend. It had been blurry, and Tobin wasn’t in the right state to really analyze the picture, but she remembers how well they seemed to fit together, cheerful and bright-eyed.

In person, James looks younger, short and thick black hair slicked to the side just above his solid black-rimmed glasses. There’s a boyish charm about him, like he never lost his childhood sweetness, and two faint dimples appear on both his cheeks when he smiles. Tobin’s gut tells her that he’s the kind of guy people settle down with, that he’s better for Alex than she ever was.

As Tobin follows Alex, she determinedly fixes her scrutiny straight ahead, trying as best she can not to take in the appearance of James and Alex’s apartment. She’s not quite successful, and her eyes drift to the wooden coffee table and large flowery rug underneath. In another life—one where Tobin is someone different, someone better—maybe she and Alex would’ve argued over furniture choice and arrangement. But that Tobin, that life…

“You didn’t give me much of a heads up,” Alex says, bringing Tobin out of her reverie. Alex shuts the balcony door firmly, and they’re alone in the cool evening air. Her lips flatten into a straight disapproving line.

“Sorry,” Tobin mumbles and tries to ignore the way those words sting.

Maybe it’s how lost Tobin must look, but Alex sighs and relents. Her voice is almost tender as she asks, “What are you doing here?”

It had taken all of Tobin’s courage and more for her to come. A year is a long time to go without seeing or talking to someone, especially given the fact that Tobin and Alex had never spent that kind of time disconnected from each other before. But Tobin’s unease had been dwarfed by how much she missed Alex.

“I really don’t know,” Tobin says now, fingers playing with the hem of her shirt. “I guess I wanted to see you. I wanted to see if you were happy.”

“Yeah, I am,” Alex says gingerly, as if she doesn’t want to upset Tobin.

But Tobin isn’t the type to get jealous or to begrudge someone their contentment, so all she feels is empty.

“Good, I’m glad,” Tobin says with a rough swallow.

“Why are you really here?” Alex asks, crossing her arms against a particularly chilly breeze. Things change, but Alex is still perceptive, better at reading Tobin than anyone else.

What Tobin really wants to do is apologize for how things ended, to make amends. But this isn’t the right time, not with Alex’s boyfriend just inside. No, if Tobin apologizes now, it’ll be for herself and not for Alex.

“I missed your birthday this year,” Tobin says instead. Rifling through the contents of her pocket, Tobin retrieves her wallet. From the main pocket, she fishes out a piece of folded wax paper with a small violet encased.

Tobin isn’t a very good gift giver so she’s learned to stick with traditional picks like scarves for her mother and gift cards to The Sports Authority for her siblings and so on. For Alex’s birthday, Tobin usually sent her a simple bouquet of flowers and a small bag of Ghiradelli dark chocolate with raspberry filling (Alex’s well-known guilty pleasure).

This year Tobin had considered doing so again, like nothing had changed. But Alex hadn’t said or done anything for Tobin’s birthday earlier in May, so Tobin followed her example. She simply let it be. Tried to let go of old habits, old routines, old relationships.

Still, she hadn’t been able to help herself when she passed by a flower stand in Vienna’s side streets. She bought a singular violet, Alex’s favorite, at the recommendation of the shop keeper. He showed her how to press it in a book and gave her a sheet of wax paper too.

(She’d wanted to let go but couldn’t.)

Alex had been one of two constants in Tobin’s life, a point of origin and return. The other constant was Tobin’s Bible, gifted to her by her grandmother when she was ten; its oft-read pages have been everywhere with her, secure in her backpack. So, she slipped the flower in between two random pages, closed the covers, and held the book in her hand, comforted by the weight. Then she put it out of mind.

But she’s here now, offering Alex the last string tying Tobin to her. Alex accepts it, fingers brushing against Tobin’s. Tobin had intended for the gift to be an olive branch, searching for a sense of closure as well. It should be a relief, but her shoulders still feel tense and her throat constricts with reluctance. (Alex doesn’t know what she’s taking.)

“Thank you,” Alex says, light and unaware of Tobin’s inner turmoil. Tobin leans in quickly to press a kiss to Alex’s cheek, doesn’t linger for both their sakes. Pushing at Tobin’s shoulder gently, Alex whispers, “I need some more time, Tobin.”

Tobin used to love the sound of her name on Alex’s lips, but it sounds like a deserved reprimand here.

“Of course,” Tobin says, stepping away instantly. “Text me when you’re ready or—” She kneads the heel of her palm against her jaw, sorry for overstepping the undrawn boundaries. “Or if you feel like you want to.”

Alex nods stiffly.

“I miss being your friend.” Head bowed, Tobin says it fast and low like a confession. Then, to spare herself Alex’s response, Tobin continues, “I’ll get outta your hair.” With a clenched jaw, Tobin hunches her shoulders, slipping her headphones on, and shows herself out. Tobin hates herself a little for coming at all.

(She wants to let go and she’ll get there eventually.

Today, though, she’s not even close.)

 

///

 

Alex cups the wax paper in her hand delicately and exits the balcony after she hears the front door close behind Tobin. James joins her in the living room, untying the apron and tossing it aside. He rolls the sleeves of his gray cashmere sweater down, watching her with concern.

“She gave me a late birthday gift,” Alex says and curses the tears that spring to her eyes unbidden. She doesn’t know if it’s in reaction to Tobin’s unexpected reappearance or the burn of Tobin’s lips on her cheek or something else entirely.

Moving forward, James tenderly cradles Alex’s hands with his. Fingers unfurling, she reveals the pressed violet, petals alternatingly dark blue and lilac.

“Does it have some special meaning?” James asks, stroking at the fragile stem.

“I have no idea,” she says truthfully. She’s as stumped by Tobin’s choice of present as she is by Tobin’s timing. For all she knows, it means absolutely nothing. (But from Tobin’s body language, Alex can glean that the violet represents something important and private for Tobin.)

James wipes away the wetness from Alex’s cheek with his thumb and smiles.

“What?” she asks, self-conscious.

“I can’t believe you didn’t tell me you dated Tobin Heath.”

That provokes a chuckle from Alex. “You should’ve asked her for an autograph.”

“Alex,” James says, tone more serious. “Did something happen?”

Alex shakes her head. “Just old wounds.”

“I’ve got some too.” The empathy in his voice is subdued but welcome, and she leans into him, head against his chest.

“There’s a long history between her and me. And it’s not that I still want to be with her, I just wasn’t prepared for tonight,” Alex says and feels the need to reassure and clarify. A lack of communication had hurt her and Tobin both before, so she doesn’t want to make the same mistake now. “I’m not sitting here regretting that I’m with you, James. I promise.”

“I wasn’t worried,” James says with a peck to her forehead. “But thank you for telling me.”

Alex is comfortable with where she is in life, satisfied with her work and relationships, romantic and platonic. But the _what if_ of Tobin that used to haunt her comes back into view for a flash of something like regret. Then it vanishes, and Alex extracts herself from James to place Tobin’s gift inside a random volume on the bookshelf where it’ll stay, forgotten and safe.

 

* * *

 

 

_January 1st, 2017 (Tobin: 28, Alex: 27)_

Big parties have never been Alex’s scene (in the past she’d only gone with Sydney, ever the life of any gathering), but James had gently pouted until Alex relented. She’s regretting it a little now, surrounded by the deafening bassline of some EDM song and jostled by the mass of bodies moving back and forth from the living room to the kitchen. But for the past three months James has been working hard on a colossal project, waking up at the crack of dawn and returning right as Alex is headed to bed. This reprieve is well-deserved, and so she tries her best not to be a downer, letting James catch up with some old friends by himself.

After failing to make small-talk over the music, Alex moves farther into the house, pushing past the various drunks—loud drunks, lonely drunks, delirious drunks. The basement isn’t as crowded, just a few people playing pool and foosball. She watches the foosball bars spin and spin, whirring, and is hit with the realization of just how sober she is.

With nothing else to occupy her, Alex pulls out her phone instead, tapping the two notifications from Sydney. The first is a picture of baby Cassius in a _I’m What Happened in Vegas_ onesie, the second captioning it as: _Happy New Year Auntie Alex!_ That pulls a short chuckle from Alex, and she replies in kind with lots of emoticons. Sydney is right on time, which means she must have taken that picture hours ago or, possibly, kept her infant son awake till midnight (but Alex is willing to give her the benefit of the doubt here). Either way, it’s a good reminder, and Alex sends off a few quick texts to her family group chat and some other close friends. She works down her contact list methodically, making sure to ask Ashlyn about her grandmother’s health. After _Ashlyn Harris_ is _Tobin Heath_ , and Alex hesitates, finger hovering over the name.

Well, what the hell? It’s been awhile, and it’s New Year’s, and that relationship, the memories of it don’t hurt anymore. Alex texts Tobin something generic, something forgettable, and moves on. When she’s finished with her contact list, she’s received replies from Sydney, Tobin, and her parents all wishing her the same.

After she’s finished typing another response to Sydney, Alex looks up in time to see James descend the steps with the daughter of their hosts. The girl is about three or four, legs wobbly, probably a little tired given that she’s been allowed to stay up. James holds her hand gently and patiently as she takes one step at a time. Alex smiles, heart warming at the sight. They’ve been together for a couple of years now, and James has broached the subject of marriage and children a few times. James is 32 years old, five years Alex’s senior, and so Alex thinks he might feel like it’s an opportune time because of that. The issue hasn’t been one of serious contention, but Alex doesn’t know if she’s ready or if that’s for her at all.

Her phone buzzes again with a text from Tobin telling her to have a good year. It’s basically just the same text from before but reworded. Tobin’s probably drunk, Alex muses and chuckles to herself. God, she should really do the same. Raising a hand, Alex gets James’s attention. With the little girl’s hand in his, James makes his way over to Alex.

“Hey, Courtney,” Alex says in her talking-to-small-children voice. Then, normally, she hisses at James, “Wanna ditch the kid and get drunk by the pool?”

“Alcohol is bad,” James says, frowning. He ushers Courtney away with a, “Go find your mom, okay?” Once she’s out of earshot, James heaves a sigh and says to Alex, “Oh, hell yes. Let’s go.”

They stay out until 4 A.M. or something equally egregious to Alex. She’s hungover as hell the next morning, as is James, and they spend the first day of the new year nursing their poor heads. All in all, Alex thinks they’re ready to take on 2017.

 

///

 

Alex Morgan  
Today 3:27AM

Happy New Year!!!

Thx. U too  
_Delivered_

It’s the first that Tobin’s heard from Alex in over a year. A simple text as if they’re just old friends. As if they’re just old colleagues, or even less than that, just acquaintances.

Thumbs hovering over the screen, Tobin bites her lip, wondering if she should say something else, something different from the generic responses she’s been sending all day as the clock began to strike 12 for her friends around the world. Chances are Alex is as sober as Tobin is—which is to say, not at all—so maybe the text was accidental and so maybe Tobin shouldn’t say anything else.

Tobin glances down towards her phone one more time under the pretense of confirming the time (but really checking, _hoping_ , for a response from Alex—before realizing that she hadn’t exactly left room for one). The distant boom of fireworks and a drunken rendition of _Auld Lang Syne_ from the apartment below strikes a sense of longing deep inside of her, and she finds herself just… missing Alex a fucking lot. It’s enough to have her desperately seeking some thread of contact, no matter how superficial the conversation.

 _Have a good year, Alex,_ she types, and hits send before she can talk herself out of it. Not exactly a conversation opener either, but she doesn’t want to sound too familiar too soon, doesn’t want to accidentally trigger any arguments. She stares at her screen, willing the three grey dots to appear.

They don’t.

Still, she stares, until her savior comes in the form of one very inebriated Mana Shim, who trips on an errant left Vans sneaker—Tobin’s, unsurprisingly—breaking her from musings far too serious for the current festivities.

“Yo Tobito!” Mana yells as she recovers with very little grace, stumbling the rest of her way over. “Stop texting your girl and finish your drink so I can pour you another one!”

“I’m not texting anyone,” Tobin grumbles, grunting as Mana slings an arm around her shoulder, leaning against her heavily before dropping an exaggerated kiss on Tobin’s cheek. “Ugh, Mana,” she complains, elbowing her friend, “that’s gross.”

“Girlfriend says to make sure you get a New Year’s kiss,” Mana explains with a shrug, “but since your broody ass didn’t want to talk to that girl eyeing you at the club earlier, that’s all you get.”

“I’m hardly broody. And that girl wasn’t eyeing me,” Tobin protests futilely.

Mana shakes her head, unconvinced. “Well, Happy New Year anyway, Toby Tobs.”

“Happy New Year,” Tobin says, wrinkling her nose. Another glance at her phone confirms that Alex still hasn’t replied, and suddenly she doesn’t have the energy to care about Mana’s usage of terribly old nicknames.

(When Mana is otherwise occupied, Tobin slips her phone into Mana’s back pocket. Two more shots and she’s going to be the stupid drunk who calls their ex at an ungodly hour.)

It’s a little past noon the next day when Tobin wakes with a pounding headache and a mouth as dry as her current sex life. Next to her, Mana remains asleep, arm slung over her eyes, mouth half open with a small wet spot on her pillow. Tobin sits up and raises her arms, stretching until she hears a couple of satisfying cracks.

Padding over to the bathroom, Tobin grimaces at the cold tiles that make contact with her bare feet. The lights remain off—fortunately for her head, unfortunately for her eyes—as she rummages through the different sized bottles in the medicine cabinet, hoping their host stores some aspirin in there. She finds it after squinting at what seems like the tenth bottle and quickly twists open the cap. Popping two in her mouth, she washes it down with some water from the sink.

She and Mana had been the first to leave the New Year’s Eve party the night before, blaming their early departure on jetlag (Tobin) and having to call her girlfriend (Mana). And from the looks of their otherwise-empty Airbnb apartment, their friends had decided to keep the celebration going long after the party had ended. Hopefully. She’ll text them once she figures out the coffee maker in the kitchen. They’ve probably found a brunch place that serves bottomless mimosas or something.

“Morning,” Mana says, bleary-eyed and looking as hungover as Tobin feels.

“G’morning,” Tobin mumbles back, massaging her sore neck with one hand. The other reaches toward her phone on the counter, hoping to put some soothing tunes on.

“Alex text you back yet?”

Guiltily, Tobin rescinds her hand immediately. “When did I tell you… wow, I forgot more than I thought.” That possibility prompts her to slump into one of the stools by the kitchen island, rubbing at her eyes tiredly.

Mana’s tone is full of smugness. “You didn’t have to tell me anything. You were mooning over your phone all night.”

“Was not.”

“Please,” Mana says and rolls her eyes, “you’ve been mooning since we met up in Honolulu.”

“That wasn’t mooning,” Tobin says somewhat defensively. It’s too early to be formulating something rational or eloquent, and so she stumbles over her rebuttal. “It’s… just complicated.”

“What are you, a facebook status? Get over yourself.” Mana’s gaze is sharp and no nonsense.

Instinctively, Tobin flinches. She fights the urge to bolt, to evade and ignore her friend. Instead she pushes forward, accepting the confrontation. Tobin speaks a little louder than she intends, asking, “What else would you call screwing up the most important relationship of your life?”

Mana winces at the volume and circles around the island to the fridge, pouring herself a glass of water from the Brita pitcher. Flatly, she says, “Being a dumbass.”

This isn’t really a conversation Tobin wants to be having with Mana, especially not while they’re both hungover. She sighs. “Yeah well, it doesn’t matter now.”

“Look, I’m not trying to pry, but—” Mana cuts herself off with a snort. “Nah, I’m totally prying. I’m too hungover for this, so all I’ve got is tough love,” she says. After a long gulp of water she continues, “It’s been two years since she dumped you, Tobs. A year since you last saw her with her _very_ serious boyfriend. It’s over, okay? You need to get over her. You need to stop feeling sorry for yourself.”

It’s a lot to take in all at once, even if these are things that Tobin knows she needs to hear from someone else. So she addresses the easiest one first. “I’m not feeling sorry for myself.”

“You definitely are,” Mana states in a way that leaves no room for argument. “It’s normal, I get it. But you also need to stop beating yourself up for the way things ended.” Her expression softens at the edges, like she knows Tobin is out of her comfort zone.

“Even when we both know it’s all my fault?”

Exasperated, Mana slams her cup down on the granite counter. “It’s not all your fault! Stop trying to be a martyr and accept that what you and Alex had was flawed. You two couldn’t properly communicate to save your lives. And that’s on both of you.”

“But if I could’ve just stopped moving around all the time,” Tobin insists, “if I could’ve just committed to staying in one place with her, then that wouldn’t have mattered. She wouldn’t have had anything to bottle up.” Another pang of remorse hits hard.

“That’s not on you, Tobin. You have enough issues on your plate, you don’t have to take on someone else’s too,” Mana says. Turning to the cupboards like she’s not even trying to dispense sage advice, she continues, “Besides, you could easily turn that around and say it’s Alex’s fault for wanting you to settle down instead of just up and traveling with you. If she was really committed, wouldn’t she have done that?”

“No, that’s—”

Mana sets another cup and fills it as well, pushing it towards Tobin. “Like I said, you’re both responsible for not figuring that out together. Instead, you’re talking it through with me, and sorry to say, but I’ve got a girlfriend already.”

It’s a good attempt at levity but not good enough. “I just don’t know where to go from here. I can’t fix anything,” Tobin says, taking a grateful mouthful of water. What’s the point of dredging all this stuff up if she can’t change it?

“Well, it’s definitely not that weird celibacy pact you’ve made with yourself,” Mana says. “If you’re gonna slut it up, then slut it up. If you wanna channel Josh Hartnett a la _40 Days 40 Nights_ and strap on—” she shoots Tobin a look before Tobin can even _think_ of giggling at her word usage “—some metaphorical chastity belt, that’s fine too. But whatever you do, you should be working on yourself. Whether you’re single or not, it’s always about bettering yourself.” Tobin tosses a skeptical look her way. Mana relents, “Well, you’ll at least be able to say you tried.”

“You’re surprisingly articulate when hungover,” Tobin says and peers at the bottom of her now empty cup. If anyone had told her yesterday that she’d be spending the first day of 2017 processing her emotions and all that jazz, maybe she would’ve had less to drink. (Who is she kidding? She definitely would’ve had more.)

“And you’re changing the subject.”

“Yeah,” Tobin admits, “because I’m realizing I’ve got a lot of shit to work on and I’m procrastinating.”

Mana shrugs and acquiesces, “That was a pretty good start on honest communication.”

“You’re my least favorite person right now. How’s that for honest communication?”

“Pretty good start,” Mana repeats.

Tobin raises a hand to her own forehead, skin a little clammy, and says, “I think I’m gonna be sick.”

“All part of the journey, my young grasshopper,” Mana says, nodding like she understands.

“No, I think I’m going to actually be sick,” Tobin manages through a shallow breath.

“Oh.”

If Tobin was one for metaphors, she’d say that spending the next two hours vomiting all the poison out of her body is a good start to purging negativity from her life. (But she’s not. So really, it just sucks.)

 

* * *

 

_May 28th, 2017 (Tobin: 29, Alex: 27)_

 

Alex Morgan  
Today 2:01PM

Not sure what timezone you’re in, but it’s  
12am here so happy birthday!

Cambodia thx :-)  
_Delivered_

 

* * *

 

_July 3rd, 2017 (Tobin: 29, Alex: 28)_

Tobin Heath  
Today 2:34AM

Old episode of ur Disney show on the flight to Seoul  
Counted 8 puns  
Frostbite needs to CHILL  
Must’ve killed u to record those lines

Ha. Ha.  
Yep I’m dead those lines were so bad

Too bad you’re dead  
Bc it’s ur bday right :-P  
Happy 28

Thanks!  
_Read 2:54 AM_

 

* * *

 

_September 3rd, 2017 (Tobin: 29, Alex: 28)_

Tobin is horrible when it comes to keeping up with social media, only posting when reminded by her agent or in the presence of cast mates that happen to be posting on their own. Her Twitter and Instagram accounts were set up by her agent, and later, her Snapchat by a persistent Kelley who wanted to send her selfies with flower crowns and dog filters (which Tobin still doesn’t really get). She’d much rather live in the moment—that’s her excuse, at least.

It’s a combination of boredom and an extremely delayed flight that has her pulling up her Instagram feed while waiting at her airport gate. She clicks to watch some parkour and skating tricks and double-taps mindlessly as she scrolls past a few inspirational quotes and updates from friends… pauses, and scrolls back up two posts.

It’s a picture of some old cast mates at a Beyonce concert, posted by one _@kelleyohara_ , who, last she checked, still went by _@OHaraMeansFamily_ on all her accounts. A smile tugs at her lips at the familiar faces and the pretentious poses they’re all striking, imagining the poor soul who probably had to deal with taking (and retaking, knowing her friends) the picture. Her thumb hovers over the screen, ready to scroll past it again, but she pauses again as her eyes find the caption underneath.

_All the Single Ladies of Aquila ;) (feat. newly engaged @ALLIE_LONG)_

Oh.

Her eyes fly back up to the picture, then back to the caption, and then back to the part of the picture where Alex grins at the camera, body slotted between Christen and Allie, left hand cocked on her hip.

_“Good morning passengers. This is the pre-boarding announcement for flight 171 to Los Angeles. We are now inviting those passengers with small children, and…”_

Tobin looks down at the solid red heart next to the speech bubble. As she stands up and slings her duffel bag over her shoulder, she takes one last glance and double-taps the picture again for good measure.

Later, as she’s situated in her seat, carry-on stowed away in the overhead compartment, she pulls out her phone from her pocket and takes a picture of the view from her airplane window, attaching it to her tweet.

_@AdrenalineJunky88: On my way to #Aquila20. Can’t wait to see The Gals. :D_

Then,

_@AdrenalineJunky88: Congrats on the engagement, @ALLIE_LONG. Drinks on you later!_

Two tweets in one day. A hashtag, even. Her agent would be so proud.

Tobin’s stomach stirs with new nerves, and she forces them away.

 

///

 

_@alexmorgan: En route to #Aquila20 with @kelleyohara. See you ladies soon!_

_@kelleyohara: I can’t believe you stole my window seat!!!_ _  
_ _“En route to #Aquila20 with @kelleyohara. See you ladies soon!”_

_@alexmorgan: @kelleyohara you snooze you lose._

Once they’ve settled comfortably into their seats (first class thanks to Kelley, who insists that her 5’5” average ass frame needs the extra leg room), Kelley pulls out a copy of the latest _People_ magazine.

“Are you trying to find yourself?” Alex asks though she suspects she already knows the answer.

“Noooo,” Kelley answers unconvincingly.

Alex rolls her eyes.

(Not three minutes later, Kelley yells, “Aha!” and shoves the magazine into Alex’s face, open to a picture of Kelley paddle boarding in Cancun.)

About half an hour into the flight, Kelley asks in that fake casual way of hers, “Looking forward to seeing everyone?”

Alex is fairly sure she knows what Kelley’s trying to get at, but she wants Kelley to work for it. “Of course,” Alex says. “I haven’t seen some of them in almost a decade.”

“What about the ones you’ve seen more recently?”

“Syd? I hope she brings baby Cash,” Alex says innocently. “He’s so gorgeous, no wonder though with those genes.”

“Anyone else?” Kelley needles.

“Oo, I bet Ashlyn will come with Ali this time,” Alex says, obnoxiously prolonging this line of questioning. “They look so good together.”

Kelley deflates and surrenders, out of patience already. “Okay, you got me. I want to know how you feel about seeing Tobin.”

Alex flashes a triumphant grin. “Thank you for worrying, but it’ll be fine.”

“I mean you’re single now,” Kelley says, “and Tobin’s never ever really dated anyone else.”

Alex shakes her head dismissively. “Tobin and I ended things because we didn’t see things eye to eye, and James and I—”

“Broke up because he wasn’t Tobin.” Kelley nods. “I know.”

“That’s not why we broke up.”

“Not how I remember it.”

“We broke up because we were in different places,” Alex carries on over Kelley’s selective hearing. “He was ready to get married and start a family, and I wasn’t.”

“So. Because he wasn’t Tobin.”

“You’re impossible,” Alex says with a chuckle.

“You missed her though, right?” Kelley asks more seriously.

Alex pauses, considering her words. “Of course. You don’t just let go of someone who’s been such a big part of your life.”

“So, what’re you gonna say to her?”

“What exactly do you think is going to happen at the reunion? Tobin and I will just pick up where we left off after two years?” Alex scoffs. If only she was that kind of hopeless romantic.

“You never know,” Kelley singsongs.

“I _do_ know,” Alex insists. “It’ll be nice to see her again, but nothing’s going to happen.”

Curiosity seemingly mollified, Kelley reclines back in her seat, flipping through an in-flight magazine. Alex stares out the window at the never ending blue sky punctuated with white fluffs of clouds. Whatever remnant fractures of emotion Alex has left over for Tobin are complicated, more like faded affection than active desire. The _Aquila_ event will be a good chance for her to reconnect her friendships with Tobin and others, and she allows herself to be tentatively excited for it.

 

///

 

A slideshow of old photos, courtesy of Heather, plays in the background as the cast and some of the crew of _Aquila_ file into the ballroom. Tobin sticks with Amy and Lauren, sitting with them at the table they choose. A round of laughter causes Tobin to turn to the projector screen, and she sees a picture of Abby and Megan flexing and baring their teeth. The next slide shows Dom and Sydney kissing sweetly as Alex and Tobin slow-dance in the background.

Lauren sneaks a not so subtle glance at Tobin who forces a smile.

Most of the pictures elicit a subdued sense of nostalgia from Tobin, but a few of them eat away at her carefully constructed facade for the event. As a general rule, she tries to keep from looking back too often, but this reunion is all about the past, so she supposes she can afford to indulge.

When a picture of Alex giving Tobin a piggyback from at least fourteen years ago pops up, Tobin excuses herself from the table. She pretends she doesn’t see Amy’s concern or Lauren shaking her head.

Tobin downs half a bottle of beer and wanders outside into the back garden. It’s a beautiful venue for sure, and she wishes she was in the mindset to properly enjoy it. All of her old friends from her formative years, who have never given up on her and still love her, are back inside having fun; Tobin feels guilty that tonight is a trial for her instead.

“Hey.”

Instinctively, Tobin turns toward the voice. Of course it would be Alex. Tobin flicks her gaze away from her and tries to summon up a nonchalant pretense. “Hey.”

Alex maneuvers herself alongside the patio railing next to Tobin. “You avoiding me?”

“A little,” Tobin admits.

Instead of being hurt by Tobin’s straightforward answer, Alex merely seems thoughtful. As Tobin finishes her drink, she feels the heat of Alex’s scrutiny on her. The ache of missing Alex, of having lost her, returns now with her close enough to reach out and touch. But Tobin doesn’t know where they stand with each other.

So, she waits for Alex’s cue.

 

///

 

Tobin’s posture is tense like she’s still debating on whether or not to bolt. The thought that she might still be running causes Alex’s heart to twinge. She can’t decide whether it’s better or worse that maybe nothing has changed.

“Do you want me to leave you alone?” Alex asks, biting her lip.

The question hangs between them. The night is otherwise quiet, only occasionally punctuated by the hum of the dragonflies’ wings and the faint chatter from the party.

“No,” Tobin says finally. “It’s good to see you.”

“Doesn’t seem like it.”

A sad smile tugs at the corner of Tobin’s mouth. “I just wanted to give you some space.”

“We’ve had a lot of that in the past couple of years.”

“That’s on me,” Tobin says, surprising Alex with her continued candidness. “I’m sorry.”

“For what?”

Tobin faces Alex fully for the first time tonight, weary and solemn. “For a lot. Like taking you for granted or not being there for you when you needed me. I have a lot to make up for.”

And yes, Alex had at one point blamed Tobin for the failure of their relationship, but she’s a different person now. She’s someone who can recognize that Tobin has been beating herself up over this ever since; she’s someone who can acknowledge that she wasn’t faultless either. Though Alex wants to relay this to Tobin, the reunion seems ill-suited for such a heavy conversation.

Alex recalls Tobin’s bent posture and downtrodden look as she’d left Alex’s apartment from the last time they’d talked. With a sigh, Alex pulls Tobin by the arm into a firm hug. At first taken aback, it takes Tobin a moment to reciprocate, but then her arms tighten around Alex’s torso familiarly. It surprises Alex how good this feels, like safety and easier days.

“Come visit me in L.A. sometime,” Alex says, chin hooking over Tobin’s shoulder.

“Will James mind if I crash on your couch?”

“No, he and I aren’t… together anymore.” Tobin’s arms fall away as Alex steps out of her embrace.

“Oh,” Tobin says without any real surprise. Her tone leads Alex to believe that Tobin already knew and just wanted confirmation. “Sorry to hear that.”

“Do you really mean that?” Alex raises an eyebrow inquisitively.

“Kind of,” Tobin says, a small playful grin on her face. Then more sincerely, “I just want you to be happy.”

“Thank you,” Alex says softly. “I want you to be happy too.”

Tobin touches Alex’s elbow delicately, and then her hand slides down to Alex’s. The movement, reassuring, feels like something Tobin used to do, but Alex can’t remember exactly. Squeezing slightly, Tobin says, “I am.”

It might be just her, but the implied _I am now_ seems to float unacknowledged. Alex doesn’t know whether she should confront Tobin over it, afraid of ruining whatever tentative peace they have here.

A slight commotion ensues not too far from their location, and a belligerently tipsy Shannon crashes out the patio door, breaking the calm. She hollers, “What’re you two weirdos doing? Come back and part-ay!”

Just like that, the decision is made for them. Tonight is a celebration, first and foremost.

Tobin and Alex laugh and acquiesce, trailing after Shannon. They walk side by side, shoulders bumping against each other, and for a moment it feels natural and right once again. More than a decade has passed and maybe they’ve finally taken a step in the right direction.

 

///

 

Alex Morgan  
Today 9:26AM

Had a lot of fun with you and all the old  
gang last night!

Hangover ain’t as fun tho

Your fault  
For trying to match Kelley shot for shot

Better KO than HAO  
That dang Irish blood

Yup  
And I was serious  
Drop by next time you’re in LA

Careful what u wish for ;-)  
_Delivered_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much to everyone who left kudos and comments; praise fuels us. Leave some more if you love us at all.
> 
> Also, this was originally slotted to be 3 chapters long, but it is now going to be 4 instead. So next chapter will be the last (!!! hope to keep that promise this time). Brevity is the soul of wit, and us two authors have neither.
> 
> Happy soon-to-be New Year! If 2k17 even looks at you a little wrong, punch it in the face. Come visit us on Tumblr (same usernames) and tell us about it too.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for your patience everyone~
> 
> And an extra thank you to [red_thread](http://archiveofourown.org/users/red_thread) and [skysplits](http://archiveofourown.org/users/skysplits) again for looking over everything and giving actionable suggestions. You guys are the real MVPs.
> 
> Enjoy!

_So do you love me?_  
_All you gotta do is say yes_  
_Now do you love me?  
And I won’t ever second guess_

 

* * *

 

_November 12th, 2017 (Tobin: 29, Alex: 28)_

Tobin and Alex rekindle their friendship with renewed vigor, texting each other nearly everyday. It’s almost like they’re trying to make up for lost time (and maybe it is that). And if Alex is being completely honest, getting back in touch with Tobin has woken some of her old feelings. Nothing so strong that she wants to hop back onto a trainwreck—just some subtle whispers, some naive romanticism that wonders if they are being brought back together by faith just like Tobin once claimed would happen.

It’s too fanciful a thought, so Alex shakes it off.

When, true to form, Tobin calls Alex from LAX with just an hour’s notice, saying that she’s about to drop by, Alex is still fairly excited for her arrival. She drapes two blankets on the sofa, just how Tobin used to like it, and retrieves a clean pillowcase and pillow from her closet. After tidying up (though she’s sure Tobin won’t care), Alex paces the length of the kitchen back and forth. There’s not a lot to be nervous about, but Alex can’t stop overthinking the whole situation. Does this mean more to her than it does to Tobin? Can this friendship work out? Should they lay out some ground rules?

It’s a relief when Tobin’s Lyft ride arrives, and Alex meets her out on the steps. Tobin, backpack slung over one shoulder, steps easily into Alex’s embrace, left arm curling around her waist.

“You get a new place?” Tobin asks, squinting to make out the details of the exterior in the darkness of the evening.

“Yup, moved here a few months ago. The guest room’s not ready yet though.”

“As long as you got a couch I can’t complain.”

“That I do,” Alex says with an affectionate smile. Tobin’s presence used to calm her and, even now, puts her more at ease.

Tobin shovels down a plate of leftover casserole while Alex talks about the new neighborhood, her cousin’s baby shower last week, and some new gigs she’s landed.

(“I’m playing an angel. An actual angel. I can now _literally_ say that I have the voice of an angel.”

“You’ve been waiting forever to say that.”

“Next I’ll be playing God.’

“Nah, there’s only one Morgan who gets to play God and it ain’t you.”)

Afterwards, they retire to the living room and watch one of the _Fast and Furious_ movies, to Tobin’s delight and weird fascination. For some reason, she has the most esoteric knowledge about the stunts and filming techniques demonstrated in the movie. When the credits roll it’s nearly two in the morning, and Alex realizes that at some point during the film, she’d slid closer to Tobin, the soles of her feet pressed to Tobin’s thighs. It’s almost scary how easy they fall back into a loose rhythm.

Tobin yawns, bringing Alex’s attention back to the late hour. “You should get some rest,” Alex suggests, ignoring the stir low in her gut. She doesn’t know what it means, and now isn’t the time for analysis, not when she’s tired and vulnerable. “It’s been a long day.”

“Thanks again for letting me crash.”

“Anytime.”

And Alex isn’t surprised that she means it.

 

///

 

Alex’s couch is nice enough, and Tobin falls asleep the moment her head meets the pillow.

A few hours later, according to the stove clock, Tobin wakes as a dog from an adjacent apartment starts barking wildly. Groaning, Tobin sits up and feels a headache coming on. She stumbles down the lone hallway, counting doors as she tries to remember the layout of the apartment when Alex had described it earlier. Though Tobin intends to find the bathroom to make a pair of earplugs using cotton balls or toilet paper, she discovers Alex’s bedroom behind the door she props open instead.

The barking is much quieter back in this portion of the apartment, but even heavy with exhaustion Tobin knows it’s a bad idea for her to be here. Alex’s friendship is precious, made even more valuable from their prior fallout, and Tobin doesn’t want to do anything that will jeopardize that. So, she shuts the door, careful to be quiet, and creeps back to the living room.

Following her few hours of restless slumber, Tobin heads for the airport, leaving a hastily scribbled note on the kitchen counter.

 _I know you offered to drive me to the airport, but you_  
_looked like you needed the extra sleep. Thanks for_  
_letting me crash. I’ll drop by again soon. -T_

Los Angeles was only meant to be a stopover on her way to her next filming destination, albeit not without some intentional orchestration on her part to make it happen. Seeing Alex had been great, better than great. It almost felt like things between them were simple again. But then, maybe it had been too easy, like they were going to fall back on old patterns.

On the way to the airport, Tobin wrestles with her decision to not wake Alex, telling herself she was just being considerate given the time they both turned in for bed. She herself had hit the snooze button one too many times, and any possible discussions regarding the implications of the previous night—whether or not there were any at all—during a mad dash to make the check-in cut-off time would have only put a damper on the amazing 16 hours they had together.

Alex never offered to see her off before; in fact, she used to make it a point to not even be around at all when Tobin had to head out. It never bothered Tobin, who preferred to navigate check-in and security with a well-practiced efficiency.

It bothers her this time though, and she can’t immediately pinpoint why. It’s not until she’s stuck in an extremely slow moving line awkwardly offering a slightly-crumpled (but unused!) tissue to the puffy-eyed middle-aged lady who keeps sneaking glances towards an equally forlorn salt-and-pepper-haired man standing in the distance that it hits her. Perhaps Alex had never held on to the same faith like she had, that regardless of the location, be it Alex’s apartment or the airport, Alex still had reservations about watching her leave.

And it bothers her, because it should be different this time. Tobin wants it to be, _needs_ it to be. Recalling Alex’s offer to drive her to the airport, Tobin wants to slap herself for overlooking the simple fact that Alex had wanted to see her off today. Maybe Alex thought it would be different this time, too.

(Maybe this time around, Tobin had been the one who was afraid to say goodbye.)

“I’m an idiot,” she mutters to herself. And, as if the airport gods had been waiting for her to come to that very specific conclusion, a few more TSA agents show up and another line opens up as a second metal detector is switched on. She zips through the rest of the security checkpoint with ease.

Tobin zeroes in on the first available outlet when she reaches her gate, and she’s already tugging on the front zipper before her backpack makes it to the ground. She pulls out her phone charger, plugs it, and waits anxiously for her phone to power up. The time on the lockscreen catches her eye when it finally does, and she knows that Alex is most likely awake by now. But even as Tobin enters her passcode and taps to pull up her message app, she finds only a text from her agent checking that she hadn’t missed her flight.

“I’m an idiot,” she mutters again. Her thumb hovers over Alex’s name, torn between texting and calling, caught between having too much to say and not knowing what to say at all.

Alex doesn’t pick up, and Tobin stumbles through a poorly thought out voice message, stringing together words like ‘boarding soon’ and ‘I had fun’ and some meaningless anecdote about some kid with a really cool _Power Rangers_ backpack. She hangs up having accomplished absolutely nothing and still torn, this time between leaving another voicemail and texting.

 

Alex Morgan  
Today 9:06AM

Sorry my voicemail was all over the place  
Still half asleep  
I meant to say u should visit me sometime  
I promise to have a couch waiting for u to  
Too*  
_Delivered_

 

It’s pretty much a day later when Tobin hears back. Even the short-but-hectic layover at Hong Kong International Airport that involved a gate mixup and a narrowly missed connecting flight did little to distract her from the radio silence from Alex (and the three texts from Kelley, another from her agent, and twelve from a New Kids group text with Lauren and Amy trading photos of ‘Big Brother Ryan’ with baby Luke and baby Jrue at a recent playdate told her that the problem wasn’t with the spotty airport WiFi).

But Alex does respond, some nineteen and a half hours later, and Tobin receives it as she’s in her seat waiting for the plane door to open, carry-on backpack nestled in her lap, humming the ‘90s Mentos jingle under her breath after waking from a particularly random dream.

Alex responds, and Tobin holds her breath as if it could somehow ward off bad news or soften the blow—she’s seven again, in the backseat of a minivan, and her dad’s driving through a tunnel longer than she can hold her breath for, and she’s wishing, wishing, wishing.

(Not for a skateboard, not for a brand new one that’s all hers so she doesn’t have to keep borrowing her cousin Matty’s, but for…)

She holds her breath and chances a look at her phone, and her nerves barely have time to settle from just the notification alone before the text preview sets them off again, scurrying like an overenthusiastic hamster on its brand new exercise wheel.

 

Alex Morgan  
Today 10:32PM

Where will you be two weeks from now?

 

And Tobin feels like she can breathe again.

 

///

 

Tobin Heath  
Today 3:45AM

Just landed  
Taipei I’m pretty sure  
For 2 days but I can extend  
Would be cool if u wanted to join me :-)

Today 7:12AM

Let me check with work  
I’ll get back to you  
_Delivered_

Alex stares at the conversation, biting at her lower lip, unsure of what to do now. Voice acting has been kind to her, affording her the flexibility and freedom to pursue this short notice trip if she really wanted to. But it’s not the logistics that are stopping her here, it’s the uneasiness in her gut and the suppressed curiosity deep inside her chest.

It could be a mistake, flying off to see Tobin like this. Alex isn’t keen on getting her heart broken again, if only to avoid the predictability of it all. She goes about her regular routine for the rest of the day, sending out some e-mails, paying her bills, watching an episode or two of _Gilmore Girls_ , cleaning up her kitchen, and so on. It’s mostly busy work that keeps her mind somewhat occupied, and so by bedtime she still doesn’t have any answers.

The next day, Alex meets Sydney for their weekly lunch at some obscure little deli that hopefully no paps will follow them to. As expected, Sydney has dressed baby Cassius in another inappropriate onesie, this one proclaiming: _It’s all shits and giggles ‘til someone giggles and shits._ Alex honestly doesn’t know who let Sydney and Dom become parents but also knows in her heart that they will be the best at it.

While Cassius snoozes in his stroller, Alex and Sydney order paninis and Sydney catches Alex up on recent gossip. After Sydney repeats herself for the third time while Alex is too busy spacing, Sydney sets down her drink and narrows her eyes.

“What’s going on with you?” Sydney asks, waving a hand in front of Alex’s face.

“Huh?” Alex blinks, taken off guard.

“Usually anything about Desiree Scott gets you fired up,” Sydney says. “You’re just sitting there not at all listening.”

“Ugh, sorry,” Alex says wearily. “Just… Tobin invited me to go visit her in Taiwan and—”

“Hold up, what? I thought Tobin was just staying for one night. Don’t tell me you two are U-hauling it to a whole ‘nother continent now.”

“No, nothing like that,” Alex says hurriedly. “It was a casual invitation—”

“For you to get back into her pants,” Sydney says, voice flat and expression mildly disapproving.

“—to visit her—”

“She wants to get back together with you!”

“—and she said no such thing.”  

“Puh-lease,” Sydney says and rolls her eyes. “This is Tobin we are talking about. Tobin Heath, the certified human disaster.”

“Wasn’t she the certified gay?” Alex attempts to deflect.

Sydney waves her hand dismissively. “They’re not mutually exclusive, and I believe it was patently gay. Anyway, not the point! Can you just let me be the good, responsible BFF that I am and drag your ex to the moon and back—”

“You were the one who pushed us to get together in the first place,” Alex says with the intention of being a bit facetious. It works, causing the corner of Sydney’s mouth to twitch. _And God_ , Alex thinks, _that feels like a lifetime ago_.

“Yeah,” Sydney says, “and y’all were cute in that puppy love kinda way, but let’s be real. It was a fucking mess. Like, the mother of all trainwrecks.”

“It wasn’t _that_ bad, we had a few good years,” Alex protests.

“A few delusional years.”

“And she was my best friend before—”

“Excuse me?” Sydney interjects, words taking on a warning edge.

“My other best friend.” Alex backtracks, hoping to mollify her. “My lesser best friend.”

“Hm. Go on.”

“We were good friends is what I’m saying,” Alex says, “and I miss that. She probably does too.” She sighs, feeling heavy with the consideration now. “I know you don’t approve.”

“I don’t. One strike and you’re out.”

Alex opens her mouth, ready to correct Sydney on the rules of baseball or even the common saying, but thinks better of it at the last moment. Better not to contradict Sydney when she’s in one of these moods. Besides, the overprotective thing is kind of cute.

“I don’t approve,” Sydney repeats, eying Alex critically, “but when has that ever stopped you before?”

“True.”

“You want to go though?” she asks, less sharp and more curious.

“I don’t know,” Alex admits. “Like I said, I miss her. I wanna be friends again.”

“And if she wants to get back together, you’ll friendzone the fuck outta her?”

“Syd!”

“What? Legitimate concern, okay.”

The suggestion seems absurd to Alex, that Tobin would invite her with ulterior motives. The Tobin that she’s talked to, that she’s observed, isn’t that kind of person. Alex wouldn’t use the word mature per se, but Tobin has been more open, more honest, more willing to try. However, Alex also suspects that describing these changes wouldn’t do a single thing to sway Sydney on the matter either.

“That’s not what’s going on here,” Alex says.

“Mhm.” Sydney hums, skeptical. “Sounds like you’ve made your mind up about going.”

“I guess I have,” Alex says, and it hits her like a slap to the face. She _does_ want to go. And not only that but whether or not she wants to go is completely up to her. Sydney can’t change Alex’s mind, nor can Tobin or anyone else. So this decision is hers, completely. Then with a smile, she continues. “Thanks for the help.”

“Always doing the exact opposite of whatever I say,” Sydney says, shaking her head. “Even Cash is a better listener than you.”

“Cuter too.” Alex coos at his sleeping form.

Sydney doesn’t push the subject, which is the most Alex is going to get from her. It’s not that Alex is throwing caution to the wind here, not at all. While she wishes she could find a way to assure Sydney of that, Alex knows that what matters most is trusting her own intentions here. Even if Alex can’t trust Tobin, not yet, at least she knows she can trust herself.

 

_///_

 

The next two weeks pass in a blur. It had been late in the evening when Tobin touched down at Ninoy Aquino Airport, and she barely got to see Manila before she had to hop on the first flight to Boracay the next day.

Tobin spends a couple of days there relaxing on the beach and getting over her jetlag before she’s off to Bohol and then Palawan before heading back to Manila again. She tours bat caves, sees the Chocolate Hills, goes on an island hopping tour, goes snorkeling, and eats all kinds of food from street vendors. But even as she takes delight in all the activities and sights she gets to experience, she finds herself equally as excited to be back at her hotel or whatever accommodation she has for the night. There’s somewhat reliable WiFi in those places, and Tobin looks forward to checking the back-and-forth email thread she’d started with a friend who had spent a year teaching in Taiwan. And for the first time, Tobin plans.

She plans, puts together a list—places to go, foods to eat, opening hours, ticketing information, directions, that sort of stuff—nothing so fixed like the itinerary that went _mysteriously_ missing all those years ago but with enough thought put into it that it’s not quite the spontaneity that Alex once dubbed as ‘anarchy’ either. Some sort of middle ground. She scribbles everything on the back of a printed boarding pass that she keeps inside the front cover of her Bible.

She plans, because Spain feels like a lifetime ago. In a way, they’re different people now, two people who grew up and grew apart. But maybe, just maybe, they can grow back together in a way that’s best for them. Whatever that means.

(And Tobin tries not to think about what she _wants_ it to mean.)

Mostly, Tobin plans because she genuinely wants to spend time with Alex, wants Alex to have a good time, wants them both to have a good time.

(She wants, wants, wants.)

(She doesn’t know exactly what she wants.)

(But, as she opens her inbox to find a forwarded travel itinerary from LAX to TPE, she feels just a little bit closer to figuring it out.)

 

* * *

 

_December 1st, 2017 (Tobin: 29, Alex: 28)_

Tobin and Alex find their way around Taipei pretty easily with the aid of Google Maps and the English translations on all the street signs and subway stations. It rains some days, but they make it work, crossing off some main touristy spots in the first three days: Taipei 101, Longshan Temple, the National Palace Museum, and Chiang Kai-Shek Memorial Hall. They spend one rainy afternoon indoor shrimping with the locals, trying to see who can catch more (Alex wins, unsurprisingly). Tobin develops a weird fascination with the convenience stores on every corner.

(“I think I could live here, Al.”

“Taipei?”

“7-Eleven. They have _everything_.”)

They have boba. Lots and lots of boba.

They visit different nightmarkets in the evenings, and Tobin has fun watching Alex haggle—poorly—with street vendors over scarves and shoes in between trying different types of street food. Tobin boasts her prowess at the claw machines, and Alex proves to be a surprisingly good shot with a BB gun, winning herself a small stuffed Totoro.

(“Well, now I know I want you on my team if the apocalypse ever hits.”

“Please, I wouldn’t tolerate weak links in my squad.”

“Hey, I know martial arts!”

“Hmm, I guess you’d make a good distraction if I needed a last minute escape plan.”

“You’d leave me to the zombies?”

“Without a doubt.”)

It’s clear skies for the fourth day, so they take advantage of it by hiking on Elephant Mountain to admire the city view from above. It’s a change of pace from the last few days, taking on a less hectic tone now that they aren’t surrounded by crowds and trying to get from point A to point B (and point C, D, E…) with minimal delay.

The hike is mostly quiet, save for a little small talk here and there about upcoming projects and what some of their mutual friends have been up to lately as well as a quip about _voice_ actresses being more in shape than stuntwomen when Tobin gets a little out of breath during a short stretch when they decide to get competitive. They don’t veer into anything too personal—Alex doesn’t bring up James or his new beau (who were still together last she heard), and Tobin doesn’t divulge any romantic entanglements she’s had over the years. Alex is a little curious, but she doesn’t ask.

It’s easy to romanticize the past, to think that there was a time when things were, not idyllic perhaps, but simply better. Alex finds herself maybe a bit wistful for the days when they could speak about everything and nothing without holding back. But then she remembers all the things she never said, every hesitation, every doubt; all the times Tobin went quiet, every serious conversation shrugged off with a joke. She remembers when the distance that stretched between them wasn’t just the physical kind.

And so Alex realizes she can’t remember the last time they had that type of openness between them. Because if _that night_ —the night of Sydney’s wedding, the night they stood barely a few feet apart yet with an insurmountable distance between them—if that night felt like a lifetime ago, then surely, surely the last time they had that…

They reach the top eventually, and the view is spectacular—even better than the one from the outdoor observation deck on the ninety-first floor they visited on their first day. Beyond the greenery is a stretch of skyscrapers, dwarfed by elevation and the imposing presence of the Taipei 101 building in the distance. Alex brings her left foot up behind her for her right hand to grasp, stretching her quads as she enjoys the fresh air and the sight in front of her. Nearby, Tobin takes a picture of the skyline with her phone, and Alex suspects that it’ll be up on Instagram with over five hundred likes before the day is over.

“It’s uh,” Tobin stammers, breaking the several mile long silence between them, “it’s pretty tall.”

Alex wonders if Tobin senses that she’s been overthinking, if the years have honed that perceptive quality she always had. (Alex wonders if Tobin is overthinking too, trying to figure out where exactly they stand.)

“I’m sure no one’s made that observation before,” Alex teases gently, and Tobin’s hunched posture relaxes a little, as if her attempt at humor is mercy.

“Then I guess we should’ve come here when it was still the tallest building in the world. We could’ve been the first observers.” Tobin manages something akin to a lopsided smile.

“We went to Spain eight years ago,” Alex reminds her, and she tries not to let her mind wander back to the place she often thought of as their _beginning—_ tries, tries not to wonder if this might be another kind of beginning for them.

“Oh yeah,” Tobin says. “Well, I guess just because it’s not the tallest anymore doesn’t mean we can’t still appreciate it.”

And Tobin is still looking ahead, a sense of calm and ease washed over her face in a way that Alex envies. There isn’t any hidden implication in Tobin’s words—and maybe it’s because she was left to her musings a little too long during the trek—but she hears one anyway: Just because it’s not what it used to be doesn’t mean it can’t still be good. (Maybe it’s not about recovering what was lost.)

They’re actually in a solid place now, and if Alex would allow herself to enjoy it instead of always worrying about getting to a _better_ place, her blood pressure might finally stabilize. While it’s freeing in concept, it’s obviously easier said than done. Alex is a planner and a worrier, someone who prefers to anticipate all the possible outcomes, and if there ever was a wild card, it would be Tobin Heath. Except she doesn’t have all the variables this time. It’s been years, and they’ve both changed as much and in as many ways as they’ve stayed the same.

Alex hates not knowing. She’s a planner and a worrier, someone who prefers to anticipate all the possible outcomes.

And Tobin Heath is still a wild card.

(She thinks that maybe she likes that about them.)

“We should go to Dubai next,” Tobin suggests on the way down.

Alex hums noncommittally, unsure of how to react. While it could very well have just been a simple, passing comment, the idea that Tobin might already be looking forward to—or planning at the very least—the next time they can see each other fills her with an anticipation that her twenty-five-year-old self would have welcomed, or needed, even.

“Or we could wait until it gets dethroned,” she says. “It could be our new thing, visiting the world’s previously tallest buildings.”

Tobin elbows Alex affectionately. “Nah, I wouldn’t wanna wait that long to do this again.”

And _oh_ , there’s that feeling again. That dumb feeling that this older, practically-thirty-year-old-but not-yet-thank-God Alex Morgan should be immune to by now. _Butterflies,_ the traitorous part of her mind decides to not-so-helpfully tell her (in an annoying singsong voice that sounds suspiciously like Kelley’s).

“Then again, there’s the Petronas Towers,” Tobin continues, shooting a glance in Alex’s direction. “That totally still counts, right?”

“Maybe,” Alex replies, and it’s a wonder how she can keep her voice so even because that glance was so earnest, so hopeful—almost shy—that Alex marvels at how she can even pretend to be immune to it. “If you’re nice to my manager, she might find time to pencil you in,” she adds, returning a glance that is hopefully more composed than the one she received (but most likely isn’t).

“I’m always nice to Parker,” Tobin counters easily, “but I’m hoping that being extra nice to _you_ would do the trick.”

Alex turns away, pretending to be admiring the view on her side because she most definitely did _not_ blush at that. “Doubtful,” she says with a show of nonchalance. “But you should still try.”

If Tobin notices that she’s the one walking on the outer side of the trail where the actual view is, she doesn’t point it out.

And if they notice that their arms brush a little more than usual the rest of the way down, neither decides to bring that up either.

 

 

* * *

 

 

_December 4th, 2017 (Tobin: 29, Alex: 28)_

_“How’s the friendzone looking?”_ Sydney asks in lieu of a proper greeting. _“Still hanging in there?”_

Alex resists the urge to roll her eyes. It is currently 7am in Los Angeles—unless her math skills have somehow regressed to Kelley’s level without her realizing—and it’s no secret to anyone (really, it was an actual tweet) that Dom is on baby duty before 8am. At seven in the morning, only an absolute concern for a friend (read: nosiness) will drag Sydney Leroux from her much beloved beauty sleep.

“We are _so_ not talking about this right now.”

_“Relax, it’s not like I’m on speakerphone.”_

“You don’t know that.”

_“Please, as if you’d risk it.”_

“She’s not in the room.” Alex shoots a wary look towards the bathroom anyway, needing visual confirmation that Tobin is still out of hearing distance despite the sound of the shower running.

_“But you are sharing a room.”_

“With two beds.”

“So which one’s still unmade?”

“Neither!” Alex says, affronted, but her ears pick up the sound of the water being shut off, and even if she knows she probably has at least another five minutes of privacy, she scrambles upright in bed to position herself in a way that appears the most nonchalant. Just in case.

_“Ugh, you are the worst. Why are we even talking if there aren’t any juicy updates?”_

“I thought you didn’t approve—and _you_ called me!”

_“I didn’t expect you to actually listen.”_

“I’m not even going to begin to unpack whatever reverse psychology you decided was—” Alex stops, craning her neck. “I have to go,” she hisses into the receiver as she hears the door open. Then, in a louder, more upbeat tone—because the last time Sydney and Tobin spoke at length, heated words were exchanged (mostly from Sydney’s end)—“Thanks, Mom. I love you too. Mhmm, talk to you soon! Bye.”

_“What the hell—”_

She hangs up, turning just in time to see a fresh-faced, grinning—and thankfully oblivious—Tobin emerge, hair twisted inside a white towel on top of her head, hands inside the pockets of the equally white and very fluffy complimentary bathrobe from the hotel.

And Alex can’t help it. She smiles back.

 

///

 

Rush hour hits on their way back from Taipei Zoo the next day. The previously easy to navigate subway is now packed with hundreds of migrating bodies at almost every single station. The lines for the stairs and escalators are single file, so Tobin extends an arm backwards for Alex to anchor onto. Though Alex isn't sure how familiar Tobin is with directions, the crowds naturally push them towards the train platforms.

The subway trains are as packed as the stations themselves, without much room to shift out of the way for incoming and outgoing passengers. Alex is not a stranger to traveling abroad, but it's certainly not a common endeavor either. So, she sticks closely to Tobin's side, hand grasping at Tobin's forearm. At some point, Alex has maneuvered them into a corner by the sliding doors, Tobin's back against a plastic divider. As more people attempt to cram in, Alex finds herself pressed closer and closer against Tobin who smiles sheepishly in response. Reflexively, Alex smiles too.

“Cozy,” Alex says quietly. The train is fairly subdued, with only the hum of the car and the whistle of wind passing outside the windows.

“Can't complain,” Tobin says. After a pause, she seems to reconsider her comment. "I mean, at least we don't have any room to fall over either."

“You're saying if this was empty, you'd just let me fall?” Alex's tone takes on a sharp and teasing edge.

“No, I would definitely catch you,” Tobin says, mouth slanting amusedly and assuredly.

That assured quality has always been one of Tobin's defining traits, even when they were just empty-headed children. Alex had thought of it as arrogance when they were younger, later as bluster, but perhaps now it's a simple confidence.

“I'm just pretty sure that if our positions were reversed, you'd let me fall,” Tobin jokes. “You would even laugh.”

“I wouldn't,” Alex says. “I hardly have to create the opportunity to laugh at you.”

The train slows to a stop at the next station, Taipei Main Station according to the announcer. The last jolt catches Alex by surprise, and her other hand, the one not holding onto Tobin's arm, grabs onto Tobin's hoodie, the material bunching under her fingers. The old Tobin, Alex's Tobin, would have smiled and made a flirty remark, something like _Can't get enough of me huh?_ This new Tobin doesn't say anything but allows the beginnings of a smirk grace the corner of her mouth before squashing it, evening out her expression.

Alex finds that she doesn’t really _miss_ the old Tobin, finds that it's all just nostalgia now.

(Even if the old Tobin had once been hers.)

“You alright?” Tobin's voice is warm, something like concerned or something like caring. Her eyes search Alex's face, wonderingly, as huge swaths of people push past them to get out.

“Just thinking,” Alex says.

“Good thinking? Or bad thinking?”

“Just thinking,” Alex repeats with a laugh.

“I can live with that,” Tobin says easily.

Alex releases her hold on Tobin, withdrawing, and grabs ahold of the overhead bars for balance now that they have more room to move and breathe. Tobin crosses her arms and leans back against the plastic divider, at ease and staring off into the distance a little.

Who would've guessed that Tobin would ever be lost in thought like this? So Alex can tell Tobin has really changed. And, well, Alex has too.

(And now… she’s sure that she likes that about them.)

 

///

 

They check out the nightlife in the XinYi district one night. It’s a Saturday so the clubs are packed, and since they don’t really know anyone to splurge on bottle service with, they find a corner to sip their drinks, trying to escape the smell of indoor smoking with no success..

Tobin really starts feeling the effects of the alcohol two drinks and a shot later, so when Alex tugs on her hand, she allows herself to be pulled towards the dancefloor. They dance to catchy EDM tunes, hands and hips swinging as wildly as the space allows. They’re halfway through song number four when Tobin catches sight of a guy eyeing them—or Alex, really—with a barely disguised interest. It takes another full song for him to inch all the way over to them, a movement that Tobin eyes warily. She briefly wonders if they should migrate to another part of the dancefloor, but Alex looks the most carefree Tobin has seen her in a long time, and while Tobin is protective and maybe even slightly jealous, above all she’s supposed to be a supportive friend. And besides, Alex is her own woman.

But then his hands are on Alex’s hips, and Alex is looking at her with a grimace visible every other second as the lights flash to the beat of the music. Tobin reaches for Alex’s hands, pulling them towards her until they’re interlocked behind her neck, and with a move that’s far smoother than any she’d thought she was capable of, she spins them both and dips Alex slightly, effectively placing herself as a barrier without any unwanted confrontation.

Alex’s laughter is soft, almost breathless when Tobin pulls her back. Tobin hears it even with the music blaring from the speakers above them, hears it because Alex is suddenly much, much closer than Tobin anticipates. She wonders if it was possible for Alex’s arms to have gotten shorter the past five seconds, but then there’s an elbow on her shoulder and fingers lightly scratching the back of her scalp, and— _oh,_  Alex is just _holding her closer._

Tobin fights the urge to step closer, to eliminate more distance, to eliminate, eliminate… except it’s a bad idea, a terrible idea even, because while they’re not exactly drunk, they’re not exactly sober either. This was, is, should be about being a supportive friend, and this… this is just to discourage any other Touchy Tims, this is just so they can have fun and avoid drama (and the last thing Tobin needs to do is create her own).

And so Tobin takes a step back, tilting her head to the side and untangles herself from Alex, who catches her drift and holds out her hand, allowing Tobin to lead them away. The music is a bit more muted near the elevators, and it’s only then that Tobin smiles sheepishly.

“Sorry, I was kinda all danced out.”

Alex nods, and if Tobin detects a flicker of disappointment once they step out into the cool Taipei breeze, she tells herself it’s because Alex wanted to stay and dance longer. “No worries, the smoke was getting to me anyway. I could’ve sworn they passed some law against indoor smoking years ago.”

Tobin shrugs, then clears her throat awkwardly. “So uh,” she says, feeling a little guilty that she’d cut their night short, “do you wanna try another club, or should I call a cab back to the hotel?”

Alex looks around, twisting her lips in thought as she takes in the scene, the city still buzzing with activity. “I don’t know,” she finally says, pulling out her phone to look at it. “Are we being lame? I mean it’s only… one thirty-two—who goes home at one thirty-two when they’re on vacation?”

“I mean… this is the latest we’ve stayed out all week,” Tobin says. She feels another pang of guilt and, with it, a sense of melancholy. She isn’t quite ready for their last full day together to be over either. She wracks her mind, going over the list of suggestions her friend had sent her until an idea hits. She looks over at Alex, unsure if she would be open to it. “I hear there are twenty-four hour karaokes here.”

Alex smiles, easing Tobin’s mind. “Lead the way.”

 

///

 

They stumble out of Cashbox at five in the morning, voices hoarse and bleary-eyed. As if they hadn’t gorged themselves on beef noodles and dumplings in between belting out ‘90s hits, they find the nearest breakfast place and share a bowl of sweetened soybean milk along with a rice roll and an egg crepe in silence.

And even then, neither of them suggest going back to the hotel just yet. They call for a car service to pick them up, napping on the way to PingXi where they walk through the Old Street, visiting shops that sell souvenirs and snacks. The Sky Lantern Festival isn’t for another two months, but there are still multiple vendors selling lanterns. For a moment, Alex toys with the idea of purchasing one, imagines them painting and writing their wishes onto its four sides before bringing it over to the train tracks where they can release it up into the sky. But she’s tired and sleepy, and when she’s tired and sleepy she also happens to be a little more honest with herself. With the new year approaching and resolutions in the back of her mind, honest her is a little wary of what will end up displayed on the thin paper. Honest her knows she isn’t quite ready to be sharing those with Tobin just yet.

(Honest her knows she isn’t quite ready to see Tobin’s sides of the lantern just yet.)

Instead, she allows herself to be drawn to a green cylindrical structure that she’d previously read on a travel guide was the oldest working mailbox in the country. She drags Tobin into the nearest shop that sells postcards, taking her time in picking one before settling on a wooden one shaped like Taiwan. Then, after purchasing it along with the necessary postage, she shoots a warning look towards Tobin—who raises her hands innocently—and hurries off to an unoccupied corner. There, in the privacy of a three-by-three space, she scribbles a note to herself:

 _Dear Future (hopefully wiser) Alex,_  
_Eat healthier. Make more time for friends._  
_Get shit done. No, seriously._  
_Have faith in your decisions—even the dumb ones_  
_Stop being afraid. Figure out what you want and_  
_GO GET IT!!!_  
_Love, Past Alex_

She writes down her address underneath, and after a quick reread and a nod of approval, she goes outside to drop it off. She slips her postcard into the mail slot, smiling at the soft-but-satisfying _thwack_ when it hits the bottom. She whips her head to the side when another _thwack_ registers, eyes trailing from the hand up to a playful grin. Alex raises her eyebrow, curiosity piqued, but Tobin simply tries to mirror her previous warning look—albeit poorly, looking a little goofy—and Alex concedes, allowing her friend the same privacy she was previously afforded.

Then, they finally head back to the hotel.

Considering their long night, Alex tries to nap on the cab ride back but to no avail. Instead, she finds herself reflecting on the past week. She had expected this trip to be somewhat similar to their last, filled with spontaneity and crammed with even more destinations and a few detours. The old Tobin would have probably shot for day trips to Sun Moon Lake and the Taroko Gorge, a few days down to the beaches in KenDing by bullet train, maybe even tried to meet up with local friends (and Alex doesn’t doubt that Tobin has at least one she’s met some way or another). Alex finds that she enjoys this pace better, enjoys being able to take their time exploring. The rest of Taiwan will be here the next time they visit, whether together or separately.

 

* * *

 

_December 8th, 2017 (Tobin: 29, Alex: 28)_

Tobin’s flight departs an hour after Alex’s, and so she insists on walking Alex to her gate. Alex muses on how it almost feels like she’s being walked to her door after a date. A very long date that somehow still feels too short.

(Except it was definitely not a date.)

Alex isn’t great at goodbyes, and when Tobin is on the other end of them, well. Alex is terrible at goodbyes. And so, she tries to lift her somber mood.

“No stoner advice this time?”

Tobin knocks their shoulders lightly. “Do you really want advice from me?”

Alex hums, still contemplative. “I don’t know, the last one was pretty good. I mean, it wasn’t always pretty, but it brought us back together like you said it would.”

“You saying you have faith in us?”

“I wouldn’t go that far yet,” Alex says, her tone light, eyebrow quirked. To an outsider it may sound like it was said in jest, but she knows Tobin will hear it for what it is—an honest admission. “But,” she adds, because Tobin is smiling at her, and it’s—it’s soft, patient, understanding. And if she’s being honest, she might as well be completely honest. “What I _am_ saying, is that I have faith in me. I wasn’t sure this was a good idea, but I’m glad I took that leap of faith. I’m really glad I decided to come.”

“I’m really glad you did too.”

(Soft, patient, understanding.)

“So,” Alex says, drawing out the vowel as she searches for a change in topic. "Toronto next. Work or play?”

“There’s always room for play,” Tobin replies, a sly grin on her face, “but work, mostly.” She sighs dramatically. “Tragically.”

“You poor thing,” Alex says, not feeling even a little bit sorry for her. “As if—” She stops, the gate agent’s voice over the speakers interrupting her train of thought. It’s the pre-boarding announcement for her flight. “That’s me,” she says, fiddling with the handle of her carry-on trolley.

Sensing her discomfort, Tobin nudges off her backpack and settles it on the ground before stepping forward, opening her arms. Alex doesn’t relinquish her grip on her own luggage, but the rest of her sinks into the hug, body sagging, nose burrowing into the space where neck meets shoulder. “You know where to find me,” she mumbles, mostly to herself, not quite sure if she would rather that Tobin didn’t hear.

But Tobin is already nodding as they separate. “I do,” she says easily. “I will.”

“Good,” Alex says, already feeling the tendrils of hope begin to weave through the spaces between her ribs. And maybe it’s a bad idea, but in that moment, with the past week still fresh in her mind, she can’t find it in her to resist. “Don’t be a stranger.”

“I won’t.”

Alex nods. And with one last smile, she turns and goes.

She fights the urge to look back. Despite Tobin’s reassurances, there is still a part of her that’s unable to watch Tobin walk away. Except—

“Hey, Al!”

Alex whips her head back to see Tobin jogging over to her place in the long (and still unmoving) line.

“What’s up?” She asks, and damn if it comes out a little breathy. It’s not as if this is about to play like some romcom airport scene.

“We should uh,” Tobin says, shoving her hands into her pockets, “we should do this again sometime.”

Alex shoves back the thoughts that immediately resurface— _definitely not a date_ —floundering for a response for a few moments before settling on: “Spontaneously booking intercontinental flights? Gets expensive.”

“Well,” Tobin says, rocking back on her heels and thumbing the straps on her backpack, “you know where I’ll be the next four months. And my manager has the rest of my year pretty much planned out.”

“Unfortunately?” Alex teases.

“Nah.” Tobin shrugs. “I like knowing where I’ll be.”

“Really?” Alex asks, eyebrows raised disbelievingly. “No more spur-of-the-moment trips?”

Tobin grins. “Maybe a few to L.A.”

Alex definitely doesn’t swoon or anything. Not even a little bit. Thankfully, her line starts moving, saving her from spiraling in her denial. She moves with it. Tobin follows.

“I could forward you my schedule,” Tobin offers, and Alex hears the trace of nervousness. “You know, so you know where I am. Or where I’ll be, I guess. If you want. Maybe.”

No longer spiraling.

Alex shoots an apologetic smile at the passengers behind her, motioning for them to go ahead. Then she turns to Tobin, and this time, she initiates the hug.

“I’d like that.”

The arms around her waist tighten their hold, squeezing for a brief moment before letting go.

“I’ll see you soon?”

“I’ll see you soon,” Alex confirms.

And with a casual wave, Tobin walks away. This time, Alex watches her go with a smile on her face.

 

///

 

(Alex’s postcard arrives a week after she gets back. And to her surprise, a wooden rectangular one with an _I <3 TW _cutout on the upper left corner.

 _I hope the new year brings you everything you_  
_ever wished for and more. Thanks for taking this_  
_trip with me, Al. Miss you already. Love, T)_

 

* * *

 

_January 6th, 2018 (Tobin: 29, Alex: 28)_

The holidays hit not too long after the brief vacation in Taiwan, and Alex revels in what feels like a long winter break. She heads back to Diamond Bar to spend Christmas with her parents and some extended family members. Tobin similarly heads to Florida for a few days before jetting off back to Toronto to spend New Year’s with the crew on her current project.

They text each other sparsely, call a few times, and though Alex misses Tobin, it’s not unbearable. Alex debates dropping a hint or two that a visit from Tobin in the near future (like tomorrow or, more realistically, in a week) would be nice, not wanting to push it too much since they’ve technically just seen each other.

“You’re pining,” Sydney diagnoses at their next lunch date.

“Am not!”

“Oh, Tobin! It’s been a full three and a half hours since we last spoke, I cannot bear to live anymore,” Sydney says dramatically, feigning a swoon.

“Nice to see your Emmy isn’t going to waste,” Alex says.

“Should’ve been an Emmy _and_ a Golden Globe! I was totally robbed!”

For the record, Alex is _not_ pining. That would be a return to the past when Tobin would run and Alex would wait. To the days when Alex would check her phone for a text that wouldn’t come for awhile.

So as a testament to change, to her resolutions, Alex texts Tobin, asking directly: _I’m free in two weeks, would you be able to come visit then?_

 

* * *

 

_January 19th, 2018 (Tobin: 29, Alex: 28)_

Tobin arrives at Alex’s late in the evening but seems so full of happiness to see her that the weariness of travel is easily shrugged aside. They stay up watching some foreign film that neither of them pays much attention to. Instead they talk about anything, from their holidays to inane discussions on the proper way to fold an origami crane—which quickly devolves into chucking pieces of popcorn at each other.

(By the end of the night kernels litter the hardwood floor and all over Alex’s hoodie. Her stomach and chest hurt from laughing too much, and Tobin has that big dopey smile plastered on. For the first time in a long while, Alex feels young, free from all burdens.)

Nearing one in the morning, Tobin stifles her second yawn, and Alex sends her off to the guest room.

(“I’ve upgraded huh?”

“I still very much have a couch,” Alex says. “But I figured you’d appreciate a surface not covered in snacks.”)

Alex naturally wakes around seven most mornings and the next morning is no different. Padding over to the guest room, she sees Tobin curled in a swath of blankets. Evidently, Tobin is still on her old schedule of late to bed, late to rise. As Alex settles down on the edge of the bed, Tobin stirs.

“Whassa time?” Tobin slurs, one arm thrown over her face.

“Seven.”

“Too early.”

“I’m sure,” Alex teases. She’d forgotten how much of a brat Tobin could be in the mornings.

“Come back later,” Tobin whines, tugging an extra pillow over her head.

Quietly, Alex heads into the kitchen and starts up a pot of coffee before heading downstairs to collect her mail. Later, she enjoys a cup of dark roast and flips through _National Geographic_ (mostly just to coo over cute animals). Thinking back to last night with Tobin, well, Alex can live with this being a semi-regular thing.

Alex smiles into her next sip.

At a quarter after nine, Alex walks back to the guest room with a glass of orange juice in hand and nudges Tobin’s leg with a knee. “Wakey, wakey.” Tobin blinks awake as Alex helps her into a sitting position. “Here,” she says, handing Tobin the juice.

Tobin drains the glass in a single long gulp and sets it aside on the bedside table. Voice harsh still from just waking, she says, “Thanks.”

“Ready to get up yet?”

“Jetlag.” Tobin pouts unconvincingly.

“You flew in from Toronto… it’s ahead of us. Good try, dummy,” Alex says with a short laugh as she perches on the edge of the bed. Vaguely, Alex remembers Tobin tried this at least once before, years ago.

Tobin grins, likely recalling the same memories. “I guess some things don’t change.”

Maybe it’s the smile or maybe it’s the words or maybe it’s a mixture of both, but Alex finds herself disarmed in that moment. (Disarmed and exposed and too soft-hearted.) She exhales through her nose and echoes the sentiment. “I guess not.”

That goddamn sixth sense Tobin has with Alex seems to kick in as Tobin’s expression shifts with Alex’s mood. Leaning forward, Tobin rests her elbows on her knees. Eyes flickering from Alex’s eyes to her mouth, Tobin stammers, “What I said… I mean…” She trails off, worrying at her lower lip with her teeth.

A wave of yearning hits Alex square in the chest catching her off guard with its suddenness and intensity. She’s well-acquainted with this desire, strong and foolish and singular.

Sitting close but not too close, they stare, contradictingly full of want and yet indecisive. A current of something like inevitability runs between them, and it draws them in until their lips meet, sweet and deep. Tobin tastes like bitter sleep, orange juice, and history, and every bit of love Alex has ever had for Tobin bubbles to the surface, fresh and fragile.

Too fragile.

Breaking the kiss, Alex withdraws until there’s enough space separating them. Though she immediately feels the absence of Tobin’s warmth acutely, Alex keeps her distance. She must have lost her mind if she’s thinking about repeating past mistakes.

“I can’t do this again, Tobin,” Alex says, breaths coming fast and short. “Once was hard enough.”

“It was hard,” Tobin agrees, sitting up. She runs a hand through her long hair, mouth twisting. Then, ripping off a figurative bandage, more words rush out like blood rushing to the surface. “If I’d known how to settle down, it would’ve been with you.”

The sentiment behind the claim is staggering, and Alex doesn’t know how to believe in it. She focuses on the more immediate concern. “Settle down?” Alex shakes her head. “I don’t need you to settle down.”

“You don’t?” Tobin asks, confusion written plainly on her face.

“Maybe I wanted that at one time,” Alex admits, thinking back on how she’d watched everyone else around them find their happiness that way, “but I think I understand now, how that’s not you. Or me.”

Tobin raises an eyebrow, absorbing Alex’s meaning. “What’s holding you back then?”

 _A lot_ , Alex wants to say, though that’s not entirely true. “I just always felt like I was more serious about us than you were. Whenever I thought we were getting somewhere, you were already one foot out the door.” Just remembering how Tobin used to run makes Alex’s chest ache.

“You’re right.” Tobin stands. “I was always looking for the easy way out of things. But I was serious about us.”

This blunt Tobin, direct and open, is still so new, it’s like meeting her all over again each time.

“It didn’t feel like it to me,” Alex says. It’s a heavy admission, the core of what tore their relationship apart the first time around.

“I’m sorry. I guess I just didn’t know how to show it.” There’s genuine remorse in Tobin’s tone and expression, evident also in the way she clutches at her own arms. Being serious has never been Tobin’s strong suit, and the gravity of the situation seems to pull at her, weighing her down. Tobin looks older, like she grew up when Alex wasn’t paying attention.

“And you do now?” Alex asks lightly.

Tobin senses the difference in attitude and matches it. “I’m here, aren’t I?”

“Well, I’m not looking to jump back into anything,” Alex says. “I broke up with James not even a year ago. And it’s been a while for you and me. We’re different people now.”

Nodding as if she gets the logic of that, Tobin replies, “And I’m not suggesting we try and undo the past. I’m just saying maybe we can give it another chance. Maybe you can give me another chance.” Then, she continues coyly, “That is, if you haven’t moved on completely.”

When she’s around Tobin, Alex knows that there will always be a small part of her that feels eighteen again, staring at Tobin’s lips, paralyzed with desire and doubt. And when she’d been too scared, it had been Tobin’s sunny and patient smile that had saved her. That part of her is so mired in nostalgia and deeply rooted in her developmental years that it’s impossible to separate from the person she is now. It’ll stay dormant until Alex wants to purposefully revisit it. There’s no moving on past that.

“Did you?” Alex challenges instead of answering.

“Not really. I mean, there were some… I mean a few... girls that—” Alex narrows her eyes as Tobin stumbles over her words. “No one important! And nothing serious. Look, I’m just being honest—”

“It’s a yes or no question, Tobin,” Alex says sternly and crosses her arms.

“No.” Tobin’s tone is firm and matter-of-fact. “I only want to be with you.”

“Nice save.” Alex scoffs. She closes her eyes, shakes her head a little, and asks, “Are we really doing this? Again?”

“I want to,” Tobin says with a shrug, “more than anything. If you do too, well, why not?”

“I can think of a million reasons why not.” A million and one, at least.

“And I can’t guarantee that you won’t regret this too—”

“Not doing the best job selling this,” Alex interjects.

“—but I know that this time would be different. I’d be all in, and we could take it slow,” Tobin says, stepping in close. Alex lets Tobin pull her into a relaxed stance, linking hands. “So there might be a million reasons why we shouldn’t do this, and I don’t have answers to all of them. I only have one reason why we _should_ do this.” Tobin guides Alex’s hands, resting them against Tobin’s chest where she can feel a faint _thump, thump._

“When did you get this sappy?” Alex asks, airy but sardonic enough to cover her own quickened pulse. Something about Tobin’s confidence and sincerity is convincing, makes Alex want to try again as well.

“I’m spilling my guts here, Morgan,” Tobin says with a hint of a smile.

And so she is. That undeniable change is what spurs Alex to make a decision.

“Okay, but if we’re going to do this, then you need to promise me something,” Alex says, withdrawing from Tobin’s grasp gently.

“What is it?”

“I just—I never knew how to ask for it before, didn’t know if I _could_ ask…” Alex trails off, chewing on her lip, hesitating.

Tobin smiles reassuringly. “Just ask, Al. Whatever it is you need, if I can give it to you, I will.”

Alex takes a deep breath. “I want you to promise me that you’ll always come back. No matter how far out you go, no matter how long you’re gone, I want that promise. If we’re doing this then I need that.” And Alex is scared. But this is her laying bare her heart too, this is her being vulnerable and honest, this is her and Tobin. “Can you do that?”

“Is that all?” Tobin chuckles, as if Alex had simply asked her to take out the trash. She attempts to tug Alex back into her embrace, but Alex pointedly shrugs out of reach. Words are easy and promises can be hollow, but Alex still needs to hear it laid out raw and artlessly, and she doesn’t think Tobin understands the magnitude of her request.

“Again, yes or no.”

“Yeah, I can do that,” Tobin says, nodding to emphasize her response. Then, for good measure: “Yes.” Perhaps it’s because she senses how much Alex really needs to hear this, but Tobin attracts Alex’s gaze with a pause. Once she’s sure Alex is looking at her, Tobin says, “I always want to come back to you.”

“I know you _want_ to, but—”

“Al,” Tobin says, “I will. I promise.”

(And Alex doesn’t know how or why, but she believes Tobin.)

This time, Alex allows herself to be drawn in. Tobin kisses her again, greedy and relieved. Alex’s hands fly up to Tobin’s face, thumbs brushing against cheekbones. Where before she had felt delicate, a step away from crumbling, Alex is now resolute, maneuvering them back onto her bed. The kiss lasts a few minutes or a few days, it doesn’t matter.

“What happened to taking it slow?” Alex asks breathlessly.

“We can take it slow after today,” Tobin says, lips back on Alex’s before the words have even fully left her mouth.

Alex is inclined to agree.

 

* * *

 

_April 2nd, 2018 (Tobin: 29, Alex: 28)_

Alex is confused the first time she gets an issue of _Surfing_ magazine in the mail. She thinks it might have been sent to the wrong address but tosses it on her coffee table next to the growing stack of mail she has yet to sort through. It’s not the best habit, but since she’s opted for paperless bills on pretty much everything, she figures she can wait to sort out what usually ends up being junk from credit card and auto insurance companies anyway.

It’s a couple of weeks later, when the pile seems to have grown quicker than she’s used to, that she decides to buckle up and get it over with. It’s the third piece of mail that catches her eye. And the fifth, sixth, ninth…

She reaches for her phone and hits the third contact on her Favorites. When the call is initiated, she taps speakerphone to free her hands as she sifts through the rest of her mail.

Tobin picks up on the fourth ring. _“Hey, Al.”_

“So… I just got a shit ton of mail addressed to you?”

There’s a slight pause on the other end of the line. _“Like… Harry Potter style?”_

“Huh?” Distracted by her task, it takes Alex a second to understand the reference. “No, I mean, this stuff’s been accumulating the past three weeks.”

_“Anything cool?”_

“No,” Alex replies, tossing the third piece of mail from Geico, “just junk.”

_“Oh. Bummer.”_

“Actually… hold on. There’s something from Cigna.”

_“Sounds boring.”_

Alex rolls her eyes. “Isn’t that your medical insurance company? It could be important.”

_“Oh, right. Can you open it for me? My mom usually does it, but since—”_

“Tobin,” Alex cuts in gently.

_“Yeah?”_

“Why am I getting your mail?”

 _“Oh.”_ There’s another pause, and when Tobin speaks up again, her speech is slightly hurried, her nerves obvious. _“I guess I should have asked first, huh? But I figure I stay over at yours whenever I’m back now, and it’d be nice for my mom to stop lecturing me on spending my money on stupid stuff—”_

“So you’d rather have me lecture you on spending your money on stupid stuff.” Alex’s voice is deadpan—the rest of her, not so much. The implications of Tobin’s confirmation that her mail isn’t being sent to the wrong place are staggering. (Not that seven different companies—eight now, Alex counts as she flicks through another envelope addressed to _Tobin P. Heath_ —could have coincidentally gotten a Florida address wrong and _coincidentally_ all mistaken it for Alex’s L.A. address.)

And if she was ever afraid that Tobin’s promise would be just pretty, empty words, she’s not anymore.

 _“Well,”_ Tobin drawls, and Alex can almost hear the smirk on the other end of the line. _“I imagine it’ll sound better coming from a pretty girl.”_

Alex sighs in mock exasperation, but she smiles anyway—or rather, smiles wider, because apparently she’s been grinning like a fool the past minute or so. (And she’s never been happier to receive yet another special offer from Capital One.)

“I’m telling Cindy you said she’s not pretty,” Alex teases, because she can feel Tobin’s smile getting more smug by the second, and she’s not about to give Tobin the satisfaction of thinking that her lame ass line was cute or anything.

 _“Alex,”_ Tobin whines, _“that’s not what I said!”_

“Fine,” Alex relents, but only because she’s in such a good mood… until a thought strikes her. “I draw the line at fan mail,” she states, only half-joking as she stares at the unsorted pile warily. They’ve both been in the industry long enough to know better, but really, she wouldn’t put it past Tobin.

“ _Huh?_ ”

“I mean, if you’re going to start having all your mail sent here—”

“ _Oh! Don’t worry, that stuff gets sent to some P.O. Box my agent set up for me._   _Apparently giving out the address to my parents’ house is a dumb idea. And unsafe._ ”

Alex fakes a wistful sigh. “Good to know the irresponsible mess that I kinda had a thing for when I was eighteen is still somewhere in there.”

“ _Well, this irresponsible mess misses the over-competitive goody-two shoes she_ definitely _had a thing for when she was sixteen.”_

“You’re ridiculous. I’m hanging up,” Alex says, shaking her head even though she knows Tobin can’t see the motion.

_“Don’t be jealous that I figured it out first.”_

“It’s not like you did anything about it.”

_“Ouch.”_

“I’m really hanging up now. I haven’t had dinner and it’s getting late.”

“ _Okay. See you in nine days_.”

Alex doesn’t know how to stop smiling.

 

///

 

Alex Morgan  
Today 4:34PM

I forgot to mention  
Your Surfing magazine came in

Sweet  
Keep it safe for me until I come home?

Of course <3

:-)  
_Delivered_

 

///

 

Tobin Heath  
Today 2:19AM

I’m changing my Amazon password if you  
order one more thing this month

They’re for u!

Star Wars wall decals?

You said I could help decorate so ur  
mom would believe that I kinda moved in

Prequel trilogy.

Natalie Portman.

My apartment is not your warehouse!!!

I can’t help that ur free prime shipping only  
works with a US address

Stop buying stupid stuff.

OK but what if I really buy u something next?

No.  
_Read 1:46 PM_

 

* * *

 

_April 11th, 2018 (Tobin: 29, Alex: 28)_

“You're letting me drive Ruby?”

Alex, leaning against her freshly waxed Mazda 6, looks on dubiously as Tobin stares warily at the key fob in her hand.

Kelley, having just returned from tossing her handmade airport greeter sign ( _Alex Morgan’s Bitch_ in rainbow colors followed by a crudely drawn stick figure with a ponytail) into the backseat of her Audi, nudges her playfully. “Aw, look,” she teases, positively gleeful, “you’re trusting your baby with your baby.”

Alex grunts, too tired to come up with a snarky response. She woke up at an ungodly hour for her girlfriend and her girlfriend’s stupidly dumb face (and no one should have a face that good after a day’s worth of travel, Alex thinks). Sleep-deprived (and uncaffeinated—Kelley had _one_ job!), she can afford to be a little lenient with her trust.

(She doesn’t think of the time they snuck out between sets to grab In N Out burgers and neapolitan milkshakes all those years ago, a pair of carefree and careless teenagers. Doesn’t think of the big dent on Big Chief’s bumper and Tobin’s sheepish grin.)

She’s settled in the passenger seat five minutes and an unnecessarily long group hug (plus a pinky promise to all hang out ‘at least three times this year’ and ‘no, weddings don’t count’) later. Unsurprisingly, Kelley has driven off, leaving Tobin to stow her backpack and duffel bag in the trunk. Alex tugs on the strap of her seat belt, loosening it as she searches for a comfortable way to lean against the space between her door and her seat. Once satisfied, she tucks her chin into her chest, eyes sliding shut.

“No stunt driving,” she warns later as Tobin is pulling out of the airport parking lot.

“Don’t worry,” Tobin reassures her, only somewhat convincingly, and Alex doesn’t have to look to know there’s a cheeky grin stretched across Tobin’s face. Then, “I'm not sure ol’ Rubes can handle it anyway.”

Alex would glare if she could do it with her eyes closed. “Careful. This is my pride and joy you’re talking about.”

“I’ll get us all home in one piece, Al,” Tobin promises, hand casually reaching over the middle console, “even Ruby—” Alex quirks an eyebrow “—especially Ruby.”

As their fingers intertwine over Alex’s lap, Alex burrows her nose deeper inside the collar of her sweatshirt to hide the beginnings of a smile.

“Kay,” she mumbles, already surrendering to the pull of coveted sleep, “wake me up when we’re home.”

 

///

 

“Welcome back, babe.”

“It’s good to be back.”

 

* * *

 

_April 14th, 2018 (Tobin: 29, Alex: 28)_

There are a few things that Alex would maybe change if she could go back in time, but living with the mistakes you’ve made and learning how to atone for them is far harder and far better. In the end, she still knows in her heart that the journey to this point was painfully necessary.

And yes, there’s some mild embarrassment on Alex’s part when their friends from _Aquila_ catch wind of their reconciliation when Tobin and Alex attend Julie’s wedding together. It turns into an exasperated amusement when Alex sees money exchanging hands as a result of some sort of running betting pool concerning their relationship status.

And yes, Sydney makes her obligatory threats to Tobin, Ashlyn winks knowingly when she and her girlfriend pass by, Heather gives a loud whoop, Megan shoots them an exaggerated two thumbs up, and Abby claps Alex on the back with an accompanying cackle. Kelley, who is filming in India and couldn’t attend, blows up the group text with _I totally knew before all you losers_ and demands that they all take advantage of the open bar and drink her share.

And yes, Julie makes a joke about how the news is almost overshadowing her wedding itself, and Alex can feel her ears burning with all the attention.

But Tobin just grins easily, unfazed by Lauren and Amy’s exclamations of relief, and holds tight to Alex’s hand throughout it all. And this time around, Tobin asks Alex to dance.

(And no, Alex wouldn’t trade this for anything else in the world.)

 

///

 

It’s not always easy, probably won’t ever be, but that was never what either one of them was looking for.

So, Tobin fills her heart with the world and brings it all back to Alex.

The arching sunset seen from the canals of Amsterdam, the battered bluffs of the Cliffs of Moher, the swirl of constant movement and life deep in the Great Barrier Reef; Tobin’s mind overflows with the beauty of these destinations. When Tobin collapses into bed with Alex, mouth tracing every inch of skin, she empties it all between them.

And even after they are both spent, drained of all sense and reason, Tobin knows that there is still the strength of faith tying them together. And they start again.

 

* * *

 

 _If I’m a woman with no fear_  
_Just like I claim I am_  
_Then I believe in what you say_  
_There’s nothing left for you to do_ _  
The only proof that I need is you_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The lyrics used at the beginning of each chapter (and again at the very end here) are from the song Proof by Paramore.
> 
> This project started out as a less than 10k one-shot idea that eventually grew and grew until it became this. Now, half a year later, this story is finally complete. While I cannot speak for my co-author, I (arktemisia) have no regrets. Hopefully, you, the reader, have none either about following us to the end. Thank you so much to everyone for their patronage and words of encouragement! 
> 
> Please consider leaving a comment or come visit us on Tumblr (same usernames still, as we lack creativity). Some headcanons that we've amassed over our time writing didn't make it into the story, but whythebananas will be posting them to her Tumblr.


End file.
